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Img_5444_edited1I hope that I shall never see

A storm like this again–

I’ll really miss my tree.

If I had more time I’d finish the poem. Let’s just say that this weekend I felt like the Grinch arrived on his sled and took all our Christmas stuff. I was not out in the city square holding hands with my fellow man singing da-who do-ray or whatever it is they sing. I was screaming, "This stinks!"  So while Mr. Grinch could use a bigger heart, maybe mine is still set on the wrong things. Because Christmas isn’t over, there’s still hope for us both.

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