It’s two days
before Christmas and I’m almost done. Really. I’ve got a few more sock stuffers
to get and we’re baking cookies this afternoon, but everything else is pretty
well finished … including me!
Don’t get me
wrong. I love Christmas. The lights, the music, the socializing, the food; it’s
a kaleidoscope of colour and sound that remains unmatched by any other season.
It’s also
exhausting. And with retailers out to score as much coin as they can in the precious
few weeks surrounding the holiday, it’s easy to resent the occasion as much as
anticipate it.
I managed to
pace myself this year, squeezing in little bouts of shopping during coffee and
lunch breaks before vacation, and running at warp speed to complete the to-do list
once free of my harness. (Thank the gods for the magical “third paycheque” this
month.) I’ve visited with family and attended too many celebratory
teas/lunches/parties with my co-workers. I’ve enjoyed it all, but I’ll be happy
when it’s over … kind of the way my father feels when visitors depart for home.
Last year, Ter
and I bundled up and took a walk through the neighbourhood late on Christmas Eve.
It was clear night and the sky spread wide overhead was sprinkled with stars. I
don’t know why a winter sky sparkles more intensely than any other sky. Maybe
it’s our distance from the sun that makes the darkness darker and the starlight
frostier. No risk of a repeat this year—rain is in the forecast—but the silence
close to midnight was sublime.
That’s the moment
I treasure most at Christmas. The stores are closed, the presents wrapped and
the pantry stocked. Neighbours, friends and family have been duly cherished and
are tucked into their own homes to celebrate their own Christmas Days. The wee
bears spend the night with their tree, lights on, and I go to sleep knowing I’ve
done all I can even if it wasn’t all I wanted to do.
That’s when snow
would be welcome.
Merry Christmas.
With love,
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