And so it comes, the shortest day of the year. The sun rises weakly and sets low in the southern sky, arching to its puny zenith. Winter is firmly fixed and will remain for many weeks. Yet oddly we've had our sharpest cold and thawing has begun! Ice flows melt in the river, steaming in the sudden warmth. The yard is muddy, the sidewalks are sweating and I expect crocuses before Christmas!!
Those like me who want to live in a picture postcard will grieve, but every year brings its own. It is the cumulative that paints the perfect scene. Sentimental memories are arranged on the mantel, baked into every cookie and cheese straw, tied around each package. I commune with Nanny and Momma as I make the fudge, channeling their Christmas romance.
How will this holiday be recorded, adding to my living history? I imagine it will be just so: family, food, dogs, laughter, wrappings, tears, joy and sadness, cigars, glasses raised, music, love, frustration, phone calls, exhaustion, regret, pleasure, sighing.....
This dark day, briefly illum'ed by a tremulous star, waiting for light to return. So like this darkened world that trembles in expectation, waiting for Light
, for it's Star to come again. Come, Lord Jesus.
