Every Christmas my aunt, Claire would read The Snow Goose by Paul Gallico 
She and her husband Stanley were a lovely couple and when she died I felt both grief and relief because she was very lonely without him. We became close after his death and she spent time here in my apartment with me.
She is the only family member that ever has. And I suddenly remembered her with deep fondness. So shortly I’ll read this aloud in a space. I don’t think I’m up for talking about it. But…this is one ritual/tradition/fond memory I can do. Aunt Claire…always the librarian.
Will let space fill up a bit and get myself comfortable too.
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