It is minutes after four Christmas morning when he wakes. It takes some time to gather his wits of course: where he is, what day it is, the day’s agenda; things of that nature. That done, he eases himself out of bed, careful to not disturb Sarah who is sound asleep. He needs to take the cheeses and the salami from the refrigerator so that they’ll be warm for breakfast.

In fact, it’s cold in the house itself, and he’s reminded that last night his phone’s weather app had indicated a significant temperature drop for this morning, so he hurries to complete his mission, to adjust the thermostat, and to get back to bed where he pulls the covers to his chin. He reaches over till he can lightly touch Sarah’s pajama covered thigh under the blankets, just to make contact. She is still deep in sleep. Good! She needs it.

As he lies on his back, his mind wanders. It will be afternoon in Bergen now. The kids and grandchildren will be boarding the Nordlys soon. All the way north to Kirkenes. Maybe Northern lights!

Stupid Covid! Wait, he’s not been coughing today lungs clearer breathing easier were he and Sarah in Norway right now they could get on the ship easy no one would know that’s what their youngest told them to do they didn’t listen stayed home lost five grand.

“No! The kids, man! You would’ve made the kids sick! How many times do you do this? Rest, old man. They’re happy. You did that. You have Sarah still. Alive. You’re both alive. And you’re both getting better!”

He’s okay now. It’s Christmas day. A simple breakfast to come. His fingers still touch Sarah’s thigh as he drifts along the edge of sleep.