Still here. Still alive. Still breathing. Still adjusting to the time change (I know).
Every year it comes. The early darkness and the shift in the angle of the sun take me by surprise. Like the warmth has never been snatched from the air before or that I’ve never seen plants willingly drop their leaves for a long winter nap. It is truly wondrous and terrible all at the same time to be forced into contemplative, indoor evenings. While Mother Nature prepares for her renewal in the spring, we fall in step with her rhythm and do the same.
November passed in the blink of an eye and we enjoyed lovely and delicious Thanksgiving celebrations (seriously, where did it go). The abundance of joy in our life is stretching my heart to its limit.
Last week we put our tree up as a family while listening to Christmas tunes or "oo-sic" according to Cora. She can already sing jingle bells (Gee Ba-Baaaa, Gee Ba-Baaaa). Even at 17 months old, she is totally enamored by all of it which is making this mama fall in love with this special season even more. To hear her say "baby Jesus" is just about the sweetest thing ever.
Tonight, the dog and I went for a run after Cora went to sleep (just can’t do it in the mornings right now) and it was so peaceful. Couldn’t help but hum “Silent Night” as I passed by cheerily lit houses while breathing in crisp air, my feet the metronome for the melody. Those twinkly lights all heralding faith that the light will come. And it does. Again and again without fail, but each year the fading into darkness makes us question.
As I rounded the corner for the homestretch of my run I was breathless as I approached our glowing home, physically and emotionally. Standing in the street, panting dog at my side, breath cutting the air I admired our quaint house. Here is my life, laid out in front of me. I can see Rob walking around inside and the tree softly lit yet so radiant. Cora tucked in with the company of puppies and sock monkeys and handmade quilts. I see it all so clearly and am aflutter with joy.
I really want to soak up this season of anticipation and all of its importance. So I think I’ll sign off and snuggle up on the couch with Rob, some Christmas jazz and the warmth of our tree.