Keep It All The Year
This is my Christmas card to you. Or Hanukkah. Or Kwanzaa. Or whatever fills your winter nights and the holes in your soul. Perhaps this is your whisky, your kiss, your sweet embrace. Perhaps it is nothing. It is memories and promise and hope wet with tears. It is stress, joy, loneliness and love.
And so this is Christmas. And what have we done?
There are questions unanswered and answers we question. There is hunger and hate and war and disease. There is panic.
There is nothing funny about peace, love and understanding.
There are smiles upon the faces of my two little boys that started sometime around Thanksgiving and have yet to wear out their welcome. There is innocence and innate kindness. There is a want to believe and warmth and happiness in places I now harbor doubts.
Outside my window there is snow and a world that stretches on forever. Forever sneaks up behind me and laps me and goes forward again.
My son was crying the other night, out of the blue and for reasons unknown. He didn't want to grow up he said. He didn't want his mother and me to grow old. He never wanted to live without us. We comforted him as was our duty and all the while our hearts were breaking.
One day, far too soon, he will find himself looking into small eyes filled with wonder and he'll wish things for his children that I wish for mine and it will be but a small step in the world moving forward. It will be the biggest moment he will ever know.
The snow will melt, but it will come again and with it this season and what it means, meant and might some day be. It is what we make it.
And so happy Christmas. I hope you have fun. The near and the dear one. The old and the young.