My daughter is a bit freaked out about this Friday.
You know. The end of the world. December 21, 2012 or "the end of days" according to the Mayan Calendar that was created over 5000 years ago. Allegedly.
I will be traveling that day and we won't be together until Friday evening. Maggie almost started crying when I told her this news. She told me that she didn't want to be separated if it was, in fact, the end of the world.
Johnny got in on the conversation. "Oh, December 21? That is the last day... ever."
No, kids. It is not. We will be together Friday night and all will be well.
"But, how do you know?"
Because the Mayans ran out of stone to carve and we will live for many years more. I just know it.
Except... don't you ever kind of wonder? Maybe even a little bit?
Nah, me neither. See you December 22. Right?
a
3 wise comments:
I don't wonder... but maybe I hope a little bit. Wouldn't it be easier to just get it over with and go all together? I don't like the thought of things getting worse and worse and harder and harder.
I'm kind of with ya, Amy. I'll confess I don't get too excited about the Christian/LDS version of the end. It sounds like a long drawn out living hell. Pulling the Band-aid off all at once might be better.
Not only do I not worry, but I didn't even remember about it till I read your post.
;)
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