I am grateful for the Spirit of Christmas, that blows throw the icy halls of rising canyon walls built from steel and concrete… softly cloaks wood and meadow in cotton blankets of white whispers from sunny summer memories.
I am grateful for the tales told, the treats baked and boiled, the chorus that fills the air.
It is a time for inward wandering, some lit joyfully with scented tapers in silver candelabras… some softly told – for these, death is the happy ending for innocent, young souls.
I am listening, once again… for the hundredth, nay – thousandth time – the classic Dickens ghost story, A Christmas Carol. The language and genius never lags, even though I’ve listened and read this tale so many times. It is rich every time; sharing that all are able to change their ways – the very nature of their being – from dreary, dire, chilling breath – to a light bright and merry, blessing the very life of all… both near and far. Yes; this blessing available and able to be attained by all.
I think to the near future: gathering family and friend. We shall warmly share our human communion. And there shall be the solstice caroling with my dear from, Dr. Ozbeck. We shall wish for treat and spirits of fine distilleries as a thanks for our efforts – and we shall be as warm and joyful as any without it.
Yes… I am grateful for this time of the season, which brings us to closings, from which beginnings begin.