The season of cookies, cake, and cocktails was coming to a close to be replaced by calisthenics and resolutions.

We watched the white rabbit hop across the field wishing we could join him and maybe even stay in Wonderland for just a few minutes, anything but return to the real world.

Eileen was always saddened by the obits due to her desire to have known those who passed and to have heard their life stories told in their own voices.

Sometimes, even years after their deaths, he would begin to dial his parents' number thinking how nice it would be to hear their voices.

As the end of the year rolled round she measured her accomplishments against her goals like a debauched gambler at a broken-down race track.

"There's no accounting for taste," he said, throwing the torch onto the priceless paintings heaped in the middle of the square.

The snow, like the white robe of the Ghost of Christmas Past, muffled the sound from within of carols played on an old Victrola.