It’s almost Christmas and although I wasn’t brought up to believe in god, I’m glad there are people who do. Faith is a warm and comfortable place which is particularly attractive at this time of year.
Today we learned that the journalist Christopher Hitchens died, which was a bit of a shock strangely enough. I heard him interviewed once and liked him immediately, fell irrationally out of love with him when I discovered he wrote a column for the Daily Mail and then admired his atheism which was as passionate as any religious belief. Taking a firm stance on just about anything has potentential for trouble and he picked a real doosey. God bless you Mr Hitchens, even if he doesn’t exist.
It snowed a little this morning and from my vantage point at the computer I can see buds with little white caps on. As I pause to think about this man that I never met, his intellect and his passion now dissolved, back in the ether, a ray of sun bursts out from under a heavy brow of clouds behind me and the buds jiggle up and down in the yellow light. It’s alright, I tell myself, we come, we go and whether we amount to much is just a matter of opinion.
