'Tis the Season

Despite the cheer around me, I find myself melancholy this time of year. The Holidays aren't what they used to be. Still, memories of traditions tuck me in at night and keep me warm when the winter weather seems never ceasing. What do the Holidays mean to you? Family? Spirituality? Hope?

I am still very blessed and can say that God has been good. I can enjoy the snow and the beauty of winter without having to shovel out my car and drive in bad weather. My home is warm and I have people to care for me and about me. Come to think of it, maybe this time of year isn't so bad.

The Christmas lights still bring a smile to my face, and New Year Resolutions (unfortunately) still bring conviction. As I wrap my shawl tighter around my shoulders and sip my hot tea, my eyes see past my comfortable room and into the days of my childhood.

Traditions. That is what made my holidays so special. Every year my family would sit down together and open all the Christmas cards... I would open them and read them, then pass them to my mother for her to enjoy - and, in turn, my father would read them and place them back in the envelopes. Even after I went to college my family would wait on my return home for this sacred ritual.

When I was a child, the anticipation of Christmas was almost too much to bear. My family would spend a bitter December evening picking out the perfect tree and hauling it home to adorn it in seasonal splendor. As my father and I decorated the tree, my mother made us hot chocolate to enjoy as we thawed out from the winter air. How that tree would shine! Every year I swore that the tree was bigger and better than the last! Popcorn garland, handmade ornaments, and ribbon all added luster.

The meals that came with Thanksgiving and Christmas were an all day affair. Cooking, baking, even butchering... everyone had their jobs to do to add to the fabulous feast that we would all share come dinnertime. Turkey, filling, sauerkraut, puddin', mashed potatoes - we had it all.

New Year Eve came with the promise of parties. I would spend all evening dressing to the nines, dreaming about an evening of dancing, music, wine, and perhaps a handsome gentleman admirer to sweep me off my feet.

I sigh as my reminiscing come to a close. My tea is cold, but my heart is warm. Blessed. I am certainly that. I may not go to grand balls but, you know what? Those shoes killed my feet. And I may not be lugging trees anytime soon, but thank God I don't have to clean up those blasted pine needles. I don't have to do endless dishes, or deal with unruly relatives...

Maybe these are the "golden years". They are feeling rather 'golden' at the moment...

Happy Holidays, and God bless.