It’s Christmas Eve and my brother just got back from the US and we just wrapped the gifts  and everyone’s laughing and talking and no one’s screaming even after it was revealed that I misjudged the girls’ ages upwards by 2 years* and I have Bach on and there’s the smell of a whole lot of great food cooking and I know I’ll like it because I told my mother what to cook and I’m reading a great book and I have the windows open in the room but I don’t feel too exposed and all my cousins are coming in tonight and tomorrow and we’re going to burst crackers and then eat and then hopefully convince my father not to make us go for midnight mass because we have to go and attend mass so that we can give food to the orphans in the chapel in the ashram in the morning anyway.

*which now has me pondering whether an ELEVEN year old girl should, or could, read Twilight, a concern that I only partially hid from my mother, and hence the expected shouting.


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