Christmas came. With all the bells and whistles. Snow. Chocolate. Luke chapter 2. Pounds of random Legos for the whole family. A label maker for Goldie (and now I am constantly discovering things like bowls of pineapple and sets of knives all . . . labeled). Oh! And. AND! Christmas came with a new camera for me. (And new silverware too! We’ve had random mismatched bits – and never enough small spoons – for years. So that was a fun surprise.) (I did give Mike a galvanized steel garbage can. With a lid. To put chicken feed in. So . . . I’m . . . almost as good of a gift giver as he is.)
And my birthday came. And the New Year. All meshed into one for me: a new year of life. Another marathon mile-marker just passed. Simulataneously thrilling me with thoughts of how far I’ve come, and, depending on my mood, exhausting or exciting me with how much further I have yet to go. But, a new year! A chunk of time sitting empty before me. Thoughs of the one just finished. Hope. Slight fear that I won’t grow and become. But then, back to hope because: of course I will. Of course I will gain deeper spiritual insights and certainties. Of course I will move higher on the path of: more love, less judgement, more compassion, more patience.
And, in keeping with a “let’s just celebrate as much as possible in December” philosophy: our anniversary. 16 years. Which, in it’s way, fits right in just as nicely with this whole New Year and new year of life for me. Time that has passed. So much that has been lived and created and learned and shared in that space of time. And another unpainted canvas of years ahead. All full of possibility. Some of it I can almost see – a few brush strokes here. A dot or line there. But most of it just waiting. Empty and expectant. The only way to fill it in? The same way we filled in the last 16 years. By living it.
And, wrapped in with these celebrations:
And babies. Always babies.
This one: whos cheeks, and shoulders, and thighs are so absolutely glorious that one can hardly be expected to articulate it. (Only, sometimes, when I pull her in bed next to me to nurse at night, she scrunches her soft, chubby legs up and kicks them into my stomach -- reminiscent of her days kicking from the inside. And, it can’t be explained – as it makes no sense – but, it shoots waves of utter adoration and joy through me.)
And there is this one: who is at my near-favorite of all stages. Every day saying new things that nobody had the slightest clue she could say; and saying some words all wrong (but with utter confidence that she is right) causing us all to gush and swoon. (When she can say, “Where are you?” and “How ya’ do?” how is it that “blanket” can only come out as “gah gah”?) Also, count your lucky stars if your toothbrush manages to stay out of her mouth during any 24-hour period.
Anywho, wishing each of your new slates to be filled with whatever things you most need to grow into and become the person you most want to be. (Which, sigh, I know all too well, doesn’t necessarily mean constant ease and happiness, but that’s all right. Constant ease and happiness never produced much. BUT, wishing you an ample dose of ease and happiness all sprinkled in.)