Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
New realities take time to get used to, and faced with overwhelming change, what kept my spirits up, was the grounding presence of family, friends, and my community. Also, whenever things get really crazy, I find that stepping outside, at night, and staring up at the stars, puts everything into perspective
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
HE SAID, HE SAID VOLUME 3
Jory Harcourt here. I will say that Volume 3 of my columns, which covered 2021, was different than 2020, but also, a lot of the same. Much like many people, I remember thinking that everything would go back to how it was before the lockdown. And when it didn’t, because it couldn’t, that was surprising.
New realities take time to get used to, and faced with overwhelming change, what kept my spirits up, was the grounding presence of family, friends, and my community. Also, whenever things get really crazy, I find that stepping outside, at night, and staring up at the stars, puts everything into perspective.
JANUARY 2021
Happy January, everyone. This is He Said, he said for January 2021. Crazy that it’s been a couple weeks already, and I know I’m a bit behind, but I’ll catch up next month. This is just a little bit about what happened before Christmas last year.
That Wednesday, we were wrapping gifts for other people, those that would be delivered or picked up, and as I walked by the table, my eye was drawn to something Hannah had just finished with. It was, without question, one of the most beautifully wrapped gifts I’d ever seen. Even by professional wrapping standards, it was impressive. Added to that, Hannah had curled the ribbon into intricate swirls of color and had used her hot glue gun to stick tiny iridescent snowflakes to the heavy silver and gold paper.
The word masterpiece could easily be used.
All day long, she had been insisting we call her “The Ribbonier,” as in master of all things ribbon related. Kola wrapped as he did, basically using a straight-edge—no scissors needed—and double-sided tape, making sure that the seams and any prints on the paper were perfectly aligned, and that there was no tape visible anywhere to the naked eye. He then passed it to his sister, who added the appropriate ribbon to zhuzh it and make it pop.
It was quite the production. This one, though, was obviously special.
“Who is this for?” I asked her, picking it up and realizing how weighty it was.
“It’s for George,” she told me, and Jake, who was sitting across the table from them, tying jute around individual bunches of mistletoe, looked over at her. His eyes got big, but bless his clearly pounding heart, he said nothing.
“Oh yeah?” I questioned, going for nonchalant even though I was ridiculously interested. “What did you get him?”
It took a second for my words to filter through because she was paying such close attention to the present she was curling ribbon for next.
“Oh no, no,” she countered, lifting her head to smile at me. “I meant that I got it for George to give to Cynthia.”
Wait. “Who’s Cynthia?”
“Cyn,” she corrected.
“Who’s Cyn?” I asked her.
She squinted at me. “She’s George’s girlfriend, the one I made the big candle for that George took with him on my birthday.”
I needed to roll back several weeks of my life. “That candle wasn’t for George?”
She scoffed. Loudly. “You thought I made George a special candle?”
“Well, yes,” I informed her, glancing at Jake, who was basically holding his breath.
“Why would I do that?”
“Because you care for George.”
“I do care for him, which is why I got him a game for his PS5,” she explained, as though that should have been obvious. “I mean, Pa, giving George a candle would be like giving Dad a candle,” she informed me, making a noise of disgust. “It would be a complete and utter waste.”
Jake cleared his throat. “So when did you meet George’s girlfriend?”
“Oh!” She warmed to this topic, her eyes sparkling. “When they met.”
“Which was when?” I pressed her.
“In July, at the benefit Uncle Aaron and I did at the Art Institute for the Expressions of Love exhibit. It was very romantic.” She sighed deeply. “Cyn, she’s a curator there, and she tripped and would have fallen down the stairs, but George caught her.”
“That does sound romantic,” I replied, smiling at the besotted look on her face.
“It was,” she assured me. “One second she was flying through the air, and the next, she was in George’s arms.”
Jake was grinning at her. “Like a movie, right?”
She turned to him. “Jake, you should have seen it. Cyn had her arm around George’s neck, and she turned bright red, and George put her down super gently, and they just sort of stared at each other,” she told us breathlessly. “And when Cyn thanked him and was going to leave, George caught her arm to make sure she was all right, and Cyn did this amazing thing and pulled out her phone and told him that maybe he should get her number so he could check on her throughout the night.”
I chuckled.
“Right?” she said, eyebrows lifted, nodding. “That’s some quick thinking.”
“And then when you guys were leaving?” I wanted to hear more.