Christ Mass.

I wonder if this has anything to do with anything anymore.

I have briefly lost track of who I am, and of who I thought I was.  And just before Christmas.

My youngest son who is now 51 years old, and technically a bastard, has now decided to give me a hard time, despite being well loved for all of his life by me.

Sadly for him there is nothing that I can do.  I loved his father, but his father didn’t have quite the same commitment to me, for him.

I behaved very badly 51 years ago, so the fault will always be mine.  But I can’t say that I am having a really bad time about this, because he is mine, and would not even exist if I hadn’t.

His father was my Coup de Foudre, the loss of which will live with me forever.

I hope to believe that Mary might have been so fortunate.