I wrote this all by myself, just for Christmas Eve.

a Christmas story
by Charles McKelvy

“So,” My said to Self, “what are you going to give me for Christmas this year?”
“I don’t know,” Self said to My, “what did you have in mind?”
“Well,” said My, “We did turn 70 this year, didn’t we?”
“That we did, Old Friend. So you want 70 of something for Christmas? Is that it?”
My looked at Self in the mirror and smiled. “What I want is to swim 70 lengths to celebrate our 70th birthday this year. What say you to giving me the gift of fitness this Christmas so I can successfully swim 70 lengths of the 25-yard pool at the health club?”
“But we already belong to the health club,” Self said. “Actually, we get a free membership through our Medicare insurance. Silver Sneakers, right?”
“Silver Sneakers, indeed. How could I forget? Sometimes—pardon the pun—I’m not MySelf.”
“Hah hah,” Self said, forcing a laugh. “But speaking of forgetting, you don’t remember my name half the time.”
To which My replied, “But you’re only half a name. The second half, not to make too fine a point on it. Of MY name.”
“YOUR name?!? Where would you be without Self?”
“All right,” My said to Self, “enough of this idle chatter. Where were we? With regard to Christmas presents and all?”
Self replied to My, “You were suggesting in your inevitably roundabout way, that you wanted me to somehow enable you to swim 70 lengths of the pool in honor of YOUR birthday.”
“OUR 70th birthday,” My said to Self.
The same old Self shrugged at My in the mirror and said, “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for a nap. All this talk about swimming nearly a mile in that cool pool on a cold, winter’s day is making me really tired. Care to join me?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Not really.”
So I took MySelf off for a nap, and for Christmas Eve, I had MySelf a merry little splash, belatedly celebrating, by MySelf, my 70th birthday. Yes, by swimming 70 lengths of the pool at the health club.
That’s not quite a mile, but maybe My will get together with Self and talk me into swimming an extra length or two, to make it a mile.
I will have only MySelf to blame.

About charleymckelvy

Charles McKelvy lives and writes in southwest Michigan with his wife and fellow writer, Natalie McKelvy. They established the Dunery Press in 1988 in order to publish their own fiction. They continue to do so to this day. Charles McKelvy is an Eagle Scout.
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