Feeling a bit desperate today, I tried wrapping gifts while listening to instrumental holiday music. I enjoyed some eggnog, took a bite or two (or ten) of peanut brittle, and even threw a top hat on my wraith -- "Old Blue Eyes" -- and dubbed him the Ghost of Christmas Future. But his Dickens vibe still didn't put me over the edge. And Dickens always puts me over the edge at Christmastime....
There were cards in the mail and brown paper packages (sans string) on the doorstep. And snow could be smelled on the air....
Still.... No 'holly jolly.'
I stood for a long moment at the front door and breathed in the scents of woodsmoke and the promise of snow. Twilight had come early in tints of slate and lavender. My Little Free Library was a shadow at the curb. Rowanberries trembled on their branches in the chilly December gusts, while a rabbit sheltered beneath the tree in a stand of frozen coneflower heads....
Suddenly I got it. And gone were thoughts of Burl Ives and Toys R Us and Amazon Wish Lists and whether or not I should schedule a haircut before Christmas. I'd been focusing on the wrong stuff.
So now I pour myself a glass of wine and raise a toast to that rabbit, that twilight, those shadows and wintry scents. And to you.
May the season wrap you in its wintry arms and fill your heart and spirit with peace. Happy Solstice.