winter winds

dear muffin,

finals = done, done, DONE! oh, the jollity. 

[is that a word?]

it's been a good sort of evening. a finished-with-finals, pick-up-eggnog-with-the-brother, watch-Bambi-at-midnight sort of evening. a misty evening that turns Christmas lights into bokeh. a happy evening that smells of cinnamon soap & old pine needles. 

earlier, my mom unearthed the old boxes labeled "CHRISTMAS" [in handwriting harking from years ago] & began the jolly process of bedecking the house. the bannisters have henceforth been wrapped in garlands & every table graced with grade-school art projects featuring snowmen. some of these art projects are mildly disturbing, but they add to the atmosphere nonetheless. =]

Christmas is my favorite holiday. I love the spices, the warmth, the joy, the memories. snowflakes & traditions can be found in every corner [as can numerous lumpy packages, carefully guarded by sneaky family members]. I love the incredulous story of the Lord of Creation being born in a stable. born to save a bunch of miserable, self-ruined little humans who killed Him for His effort. an effort that bought me unto a purpose; a purpose that gives my life meaning.

and on top of it all, there is eggnog & snowballs & caroling & striped socks. 

so much happiness for one little heart to hold. share it with me? 

but the season has its sobering moments as well. while caroling, a family comes to the door with their tears hidden behind crumpled tissues. while driving, I pass a procession of black trench coats, huddled against the rain, headed up by six aligned figures with green jackets & white-gloved hands held in a last salute. 

makes me feel guilty for pulling into the driveway, hanging up my cares in the coat closet, & settling in to enjoy a cozy evening at home.

why am I not more grateful?

***

goals for winter break [well, a few of them, anyway]:

::make gingerbread men

::work on dinner skills [because nothing shouts 'Christmas cheer' like a burnt casserole. not that I ever burn anything, of course.]

::knit an outrageous orange scarf

::inflict said scarf upon the world

::spend time

::enjoy the little moments

::be grateful

[among many, many others.]

and now: goodnight. turn on some mumford & sons and listen to the wind as it sings around the windows. know that somewhere over here, I am doing the same.

:: Let the Winter come. It is the only path to Spring. The house is battered with cold, but inside there is a warmth that cannot & will not die. [n.d. wilson, notes from the tilt-a-whirl]

always,

rory