The Things That Stick
There were sixty-four melodies to choose from. When it rang late Sunday morning the doorbell was set to Greensleeves. Outside the sun shone and the sky was blue. It could have been summer, but it was late December.
I don’t remember anything of Christmas except the film Santa Claus being shown on television that afternoon, and our neighbour Jean sobbing with her arms wrapped around me as I tried to watch it. I loved films, but I wasn’t interested in watching this one. I just wanted Jean to leave me alone.
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