(Excerpt from, This is Christmas
I tried to drag myself out of bed. I was too tired, too weak, and still ailing. I had no choice but to lie in bed and hope that a crane would mysteriously appear and hoist me out.
“It’s getting late.” Hubby stated the obvious. “Are you going to be able to get up today? To celebrate Christmas?”
“How can we celebrate Christmas? I haven’t done a thing to prepare for it. I didn’t go shopping, I’ve been too sick to worry about decorating our tree, or even having you put it up. We don’t have any treats, presents, no lights . . . nothing. We just can’t celebrate Christmas this year. I haven’t got the strength. I can’t do it. And, to make matters worse, I don’t care—I’m too sick to even care.”
“Don’t worry about anything. Lie there until the kids come…
View original post 415 more words

