by Tom Reilly FIRST DAY The old is yielding to necessary slumber; restfully it sleeps– memories breathing beneath, busily at work in dreams. Now it is today as real as a day can be; space ‘tween was and will– a moment strives to matter,…
Maybe it’s the tree, the lights, or the smell of pine. Maybe it’s the commercials playing “I’ll be home for Christmas.” Maybe it’s George Bailey’s redemption or Clarence getting his wings. All of these trigger memories of past Christmases, memories that lay dormant for most…
by Tom Reilly An immutable fact of nature is that time is our most precious and democratic resource. Everyone has the same twenty-four hours per day, seven days per week, three-hundred and sixty-five days per year. Some view it as a commodity: they spend it,…