Much as I adore the twinkle of Christmas lights and the burst of color they create in the winter season, I must confess to a certain feeling of relief when the decorations come down, the tree goes back to be recycled and homes, once again, give off their welcoming light through the windows. It's almost like the feeling I get when a party I give, so carefully planned, is over - it was fun to prepare, exciting to dress up and host, and joyful to experience. But when it's done, it's a different kind of pleasure to kick off my heels, change into comfortable clothes and do the clean up as I reflect on all that has transpired.
After all the bright hues of the holiday, the kind of light given off by a January moon feels crisp, clear and rather quiet. A quality of light that encourages introspection and reflection on the year just passed as well as plans and prospects for the brand new one. It may well be part of my New England upbringing that after the weeks of celebration and indulgence that mark the Thanksgiving to New Year's period, I usually feel ready to "buckle down" in predictable ways, more time at the gym, getting rid of some of the excess "stuff" that has found its way into my home and closets, and doing some of the maintenance that keeps life running in semi-smooth fashion. And this year, I am particularly aware of the need to extend that inventory of tasks to my internal space - rummaging through my mental closets to see what I might be holding onto that is now outdated, or no longer fits. Negative attitudes, exaggerated fears, hurt feelings, old grudges can all take up room - so questioning them and opening space for new creative and more satisfying ways of seeing our lives and the possibilities they contain can be refreshing.
In that spirit, a few thoughts on some of the events that moved me during the holiday season and helped to remind me of what I want to keep in my consciousness this year. Our holiday this year was affected by the death of one of my husband's older siblings, who lived nearly five hundred miles away. She had been ill, but death came rather suddenly and my husband had to fly out quickly to make the wake and service. He is the youngest of a very large family, so this sad task of burying siblings has already happened, and has a strong probability of being repeated in the future. It so happened that the funeral was celebrated on the same day as our anniversary, a day we have always observed with a special private pleasure as it has "kicked off" the Christmas season for us in such a meaningful way. This year, instead of planning a night out at a fancy restaurant, we spent the day exchanging a number of brief phone calls. The emotion in his voice was obvious - and it was a combination of deep sadness at the loss of a somewhat distant sibling who had left home when he was a small child, mixed with the happiness of meeting a number of her children he had never known, and the unexpected gift of spending time with other siblings and nieces and nephews. I was at a bit of a loss as to how to mark the day when he arrived home, which would be around nine that evening. But I decided that although the circumstances were unusual, the way to end the day was to share what we always do, a meal, a dialogue, and the knowledge that as we had vowed many years before, we would be there for each other in the best and in the worst of times. This particular evening was certainly not the best of times, but I cooked dinner, iced some champagne, put it in the shiny red bucket and set up the table with the Christmas centerpiece.
The look on his face when he came in and sat down was confirmation that my instincts were good. We sat for a long time and talked about all that had transpired over the two days and he seemed really at peace with the way things had unfolded. He spoke at the funeral service and I know his words were deeply comforting for the family. Being the kind of guy he is, with little time to prepare, he just squared his shoulders, stepped up and did the right thing. Exactly the kind of behavior that attracted me in the first place, and after all these years, it still knocks me out.
Oh , and we had agreed to go easy on gifts, so I gave him the few inexpensive trinkets I had, realizing there was no way he would have time to even think about getting me anything. Then he reaches into his luggage and produces a bag from an airport gift shop. From it he pulls out two beautiful wool shawls (one of my known material weaknesses) and hands them to me. "I wanted to bring you something.."
We sat a while longer in the dining room - sad about the loss, keenly aware of the bitter, but so glad for the sweet , sitting right there with us.
The other vignettes from the holiday that registered at heart level include a Christmas Eve gathering at our home that brought close friends, along with the newest generation in the form of my godson's son. Having this four week old being in the house felt magical and a spontaneous round of carols sung in harmony, must have been triggered by his presence. The things that constrain us seemed to melt away and everybody left carrying a quiet kind of happiness.
On Christmas day, we joined my brother and his family, where my ten year old nephew met me at the door with the news that he had gotten me a present that I would "love!" He waited patiently through dinner and when we began the exchange, he rushed over triumphant, and handed me the present he had obviously wrapped. Eyes shining, he watched me uncover the sparkly green and gold glass pendant strung on bright green ribbons. When I expressed my awe at the gift, he regarded me with pure glee. "Now, Aunty Syl," I know when you look at this, you might think I paid a hundred dollars. But guess what--THREE DOLLARS, can you believe that?" Three dollars, three million dollars - by any measure, priceless. Every time I look at that pendant, the refrain from a song by Manfred Mann's Earth Band starts playing in my head. I am "...blinded by the light.."
So here's my wish for the coming year - may we all find a light that soothes, refreshes and inspires ... Happy New Year!
