Stockings have been emptied. Torn wrapping paper and ribbon stuffed into boxes and bags now spirited away into the shop to await 2013 bonfire's flame. Christmas Day 2012 now moves into the realm of the Ghost of Christmas Past and my shoulders relax a little.
Lego kits have been assembled, new dollys cuddle with new owners, mud and goat pen fodder now speckle the bottoms of the new Bogs boots in the boot tray. Me and mine remain together - slightly fractured and emotionally askew of course - the Yours, Mine and Ours scenario pin-balling distastefully against long estranged non-relationships among my own family of origin and my husband'stoo. Lurking in the shadow of our Christmas tree still sittin' pretty in our parlour are memories. Watching and waiting to be gathered together, sorted and stored into a bank bursting from the drama that is family.
When everything on the post-holiday list is checked off, the special dinner plates returned to Grandma Val's sideboard, the leavings of Christmas cleared and packed away, the Santa cookies-n-milk tray washed and carefully tucked away. Only then can the promise of a new year and a clean slate be felt within my grasp.
Bring it on.....
Cookies are a big part of my Christmas. Baking in general actually is at an all-time buzz at this time of year. Cookie exchanges - 8 dozen this year- cut-out cookies to decorate and share with friends, cakes and tarts to to fill the bellies of all who come to share some jolly with me and mine make me happy. The creaming of the butter and the sugar, the adding of the eggs and vanilla, the thick cloud from the cocoa powder keep my senses comforted. The smell of cinnamon, ginger and Julia's famous Chocolate Mousse easing the blues that too often come to call along with Santa and his elves.
Snow arrived the week before Christmas, covering the property with all that white and crunchy goodness. Blanketing the potholes on the long driveway in dire need of filling. Prettily covering forgotten toys and outside chores. Painting a picture of a little house in the big woods untouched by dust or darkness. With the Solstice comes the dark but always the reminder of its dependence on the light for its very existence. Just around the corner is every possibility.
My decorations are much beloved. Each one a page from the story of me and mine. The story of my family. Our story begins with a child born to his mother on a February afternoon nineteen years ago. The family that lives here in my heart and at the end of the long driveway began with my oldest and carries on down to my youngest who turns 3 in March. My family is defined by who gathers together at this place. We crowd around the old oak table - all three leaves added to accommodate us all - and although the holes are there we raise our glasses and toast to all that we have become. Those not present - through death, desertion, or the scourge that is estrangement - are kept at bay so as not to spoil our joy. Mentioned in whispers and in secret, after the coffee and after little pitchers with big ears have been tucked in and away out of earshot.
Hockey helps. Always has and always will despite the NHL lockout. Christmas means the World Junior Hockey Championships. It means Boxing Day games and our much-loved Team Canada leaving the ice following a 9-3 victory over Team Germany. It means cheering the lads on while recovering from the food and merriment hangover that always follows all that is Christmas Day.....here in the <3 of Dashwood. In the heart of all that is.....my family.
Happy New Year.....Peace, Love and Clarity
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