When I opened the editor for my journal this morning, I found four drafts that I’d written over the past week. Apparently, I’ve been thinking about December traditions, candles, twinkling lights, the wilderness, and Enlightened.
Everything has been so still here. There have been blue-sky-sunshine days, but mostly it is gray, and it is quiet, like in the movies when someone can stop time yet move about while others are paused. That is how it feels while I write now and that is how it feels during these darkened days while I move through the house. Unless a car passes or, like today, a gust of wind moves the trees, everything is fixed. I like this feeling and I like December days.
Our week of festivity usually begins with the Winter Solstice. Our little family gathers, appreciates one another, makes gestures with thoughtful gifts, eats well, and revels in the darkest night. This year, that will be preceded by a Sunday dinner with my siblings, niece, nephews, and step-pop. On Christmas Eve, we visit grandmums and a bit of extended family. We stay home on my birthday, the 25th, and laze about the house playing games. I will be 42 this year. Five days later, my man and I celebrate our anniversary. We are staying in Milwaukee to see a Jim Gaffigan performance. We always stay in on New Year’s Eve.
And this ends my idle thinking, as I have merry-making to do.
