Goodbye, my deerest.
Here lies one of Santa’s best and brightest.
My family and I were inside, cozy by the fire; static-infused Christmas carols emanating from the record player. The lights on the tree glowing through the night as the last embers flickered and smouldered. We fell asleep dreaming of a cinnamon bun morning, ignoring our dog’s frequent and urgent bolts into the surrounding forest – so bloated were we with comfort food and lullaby levels of carbon monoxide.
Less than 100 feet away, a pack of coyotees took down their Christmas meal the old fashioned way.
A lesson in perspective for all those who find the holidays stressful – consider that you weren’t stalked through the woods in winter and disemboweled on Christmas eve.