The Week AFTER Christmas

Really? Already? Another year passed?

I started this year mourning. I had ended a meaningful relationship with a good, sweet man and embarked on a journey towards being comfortable in my solitude. In my solitude, I worked at creating more meaningful relationships with the friends in my life and seeking the company of those I have wanted to know better. I ended a job I loved, only to start one that I love even more. I looked for a new version of myself among new clothes, new hair and long walks in the woods. I reconnected with old friends within new-fangled electronic mediums and found bliss in the written word all over again.

I picked up my dusty camera, played with pastels and allowed my creativity to flow for no other reason than for the sake of flowing. I sang songs, both from my heart and from someone else's. I cooked for myself instead of others.

The fire in the wood stove is blazing hot, the kettle is steaming with the aromas of fresh clementine peels and cinnamon sticks, the tree is beautiful in soft white lights and funky ornaments and my three incredible children are sound asleep upstairs.

The cats have staked their claims in the warmest, comfiest spots in the house, tails curled around their bodies and my old, sweet dog is snoring in his bed by my feet. As I sit in my orange tweed covered chair, drinking tea and feeling sleepy, I can't help but feel so grateful for my life.

Outside, the virgin snow in my backyard is powdery soft and waiting, quietly, for children to mark it with their boots, angels, forts and sledding trails. The moon is full and bright tonight, glowing softly behind the clouds.

I am looking forward to the new year.