It is 5:30 on Christmas Eve morning. After a restless night of hive-scratching, I awoke with visions of lists dancing in my head; shopping, wrapping, cooking, cleaning, organizing…the big day is almost here!
So as not to awaken my sleeping family, I crept downstairs to make myself a cup of tea. And as I did so, I quietly acknowledged the fact that, for the past month, I have been careening towards Christmas. Every year I promise myself it will be different and every year it feels just a little bit manic. This year, with Simon’s pneumonia and my all-consuming flare of hives, it feels particularly nutty. Even the weather of the past week has created a distinct feeling of pathetic fallacy; angry winds, frantic ice and unsettled temperatures.
As I tiptoed past our beautiful Christmas tree on the way to the kitchen, I looked outside into the darkness of the December dawn. The vision that met me was so peaceful and so stunningly beautiful it took my breath away. The world outside my window was blanketed in a beautiful, fluffy layer of pure white snow. While we slept the landscape miraculously transformed from a hard and steely grey to a soft and gentle white.
As I stood at the window looking out at the winter wonderland I took my first truly deep breath in weeks. All the stress and worry and frustration just fell away and I was left with a feeling of pure wonder. Now I feel excited for Christmas. Now, I am excited to put on the Christmas music and wrap gifts. Now I can’t wait to make mince tarts. And even the grocery shopping feels festive.
The forecast is for delightfully cold temperatures. It is supposed to snow today and all day tomorrow. We have our white Christmas after all.