All is calm, all is bright. I would show you pictures, but again, something has changed and I can't figure it out. There are tree and house pictures, and upstairs room and firelight. And I can't find them.
Haley just walked on my back and it feels better. I've been cooking all day, again, and it gets tiresome. I want to get some year end writing done, but really, all I want to do is lie down and sleep. There was deep fried turkey with all the trimmings, apple pie, chocolate pecan pie, pumpkin roll, a mince tart that was so good. I hadn't made mincemeat in so long, and I forgot how much I like it. It is old food, antique food, real Christmas food. I cooked cranberries and dried apricots, dressing with walnuts and cranberries, sweet potatoes with brown sugar, butter, pineapple and pecans, green beans and fried onions, and no salad at all. None. All heart attack food.
I am happy to be home. Not loving the season, but understanding, once again, my place in the world. And to the extent that I choose things, I chose this. I jumped in the river that was headed this direction and was carried away with the rest of the rubble. The customs are different here, the religion strange, but I am here, and I bring what I can with me.
My son sent me a package and it arrived Friday. A Christmas miracle. I couldn't get it THAT together until I was, oh, 45 or so. I would be proud of him, but know that really, it is just evidence of a woman in his life. We do organize.
I have spent time in the places that keep me spinning upright, and I am feeling fairly level this holy night.
No comments:
Post a Comment