Never have I felt a month arrive and escape the way this November did. In my mind's eye, I can see myself taking down the last of the Halloween decorations from my classroom and stapling each student's family tree project onto the Thanksgiving bulletin board which was on display by the end of November's first week. Before I left school Friday afternoon, I'd used the long,ancient window pole to take down the oversized autumn leaves which hang from our ceiling from early October until now. Sunday will mark the first day of Advent, and construction paper candles created by my young students will be suspended above each desk come 3PM Monday.

Graceful is not the word one would use to describe what I look like as I lug the briefcase containing my laptop with my left arm and the file filled with papers and planbook with my right. The straps of my purse are positioned on my right shoulder as I do my best to walk in an upright position toward the car.

I don't know why, but there are hundreds of crows that inhabit the area near my school. This day they are circling above as I load my belongings through the back door of my Ford. They are cackling at me as though greatly amused by the fact that I am, yet again, the last to leave the school building. Adjacent to the school parking lot is the church cemetary. An icy wind picks up and as the sky begins to darken it occurs to me that if Alfred Hitchcock were to appear at this moment, it would seem most fitting.

I hurry home for I have a rehearsal to attend from 6-9pm. Traffic on Interstate 84 is intense as drivers eager to arrive home for the weekend clog up the passing lane in an attempt to bypass the large number of tractor trailors rolling along in the right lane. Traveling alongside these mobile monsters is not something I enjoy, but I can't stand not having visibily over their enormous frames. Exit 8 appears soon enough and I get off without much trouble despite all the construction detours near Stewart Airport which has been such a pain as of late. Orange cones and components of what will soon be an overpass pepper the shoulders of the highway. Even the construction crews made it home before me this day. I turn left onto my street and pull into the driveway. No one is home.

Once inside, I grab some left over London Broil from the refrigerator and throw it between two slices of Rye bread and study the schedule handed out by the opera company the night before:

Friday Nov. 30,6-9 run through, completely memorized.
Satuday, Dec.1, 1-4 , 2 run throughs
Monday, Dec. 3, 6:45-9:45 Sitzprobe
Wednesday, Dec. 5, 8:30am call Dress Rehearsal 10-1
Thursday, Dec. 6, 9am call , Orchestra Dress Rehearsal
Tuesday, Dec. 11, Rehearsal 6-8pm
Performances, Dec. 9,14, 15, 16.

Somewhere in there, I have to get ready for Christmas. Perhaps I should not have taken part....

I have some medical tests scheduled for December 11th which have nothing to do with epilepsy. I'm trying not to worry about them, but human nature being what it is, my brain keeps shifting to the blood test I took on Thursday and what the results will be.

Try to memorize:
"Olives and quinces, apples and raisins, nutmeg and myrtle, medlars and chestnuts...."
"Citrons and lemons, musk and pom'granits, goat-cheese and walnut, figs and cucumbers..."

I think toward December 21st. Always a dark day filled with tears. My dear cousin Joycie lost to terrorists on Pan Am Flight 103. Almost 20 years. The pain doesn't go away.

Daddy....My father loved Christmas. He grew up the poor son of Italian immigrants and never had a gift to speak of until his older sisters married and bought presents for their kid brothers. Scoth pines were his favorite trees. I'll never forget the time he bribed a fellow on Route 59 in Nanuet to sell him the Scotch Pine set aside for a local bank. He and I had scoured all of Rockland County it seemed, for THE perfect tree. He always wanted Christmas to be special for us. He and I would sit at the piano and sing. He had such a rich laugh, a smile that would knock you to the moon, and if I close my eyes I can still feel his thumb and forefinger on my chin as he bends over to give me a kiss on my cheeck.....God, I miss him so much....

I don't know where this is going...I'm so sorry...I guess I'll close.

"Hazelnuts and cammomile, mignonettes and laurel, honeycombs and cinnamon, thyme, mint and garlic, This is all we shepherds can offer you.........."

(Note: Lyrics from "Amahl and the Night Visitors, Opera in One Act. Words and Music by Gian-Carlo Menotti, Copyright 1951,1952)