JUST BEING....

December is one of those months where time stretches, folds, and sometimes holds so very, very still, it makes me ache.

I love winter. For one, it’s great for writing. It rains a lot here in Oregon, and when it’s not raining, our skies are usually slate, pewter, gray. There’s something about all that gray that keeps me inside, exploring the bright spikes of magic and wonder in stories.

The words flow, and I dive deep, lost and happy. I love that.

But December, in particular, has another thing going for it: the holidays.

I live in the same town as most of my brothers and sisters. We have traditions. Some have been passed down generation after generation and some we have discovered ourselves, starting new traditions for the next generation to keep if they wish.

But one tradition we all hold dear is celebrating the holidays together. We do movies, gather for the great Xmas tree hunt and chop, visit over dinners, drop in on house gatherings, make handmade gifts, and always, always, shove everyone into one room to open gifts on Christmas morning.

Christmas morning is a madhouse. There’s breakfast cooking in the kitchen, huge pots of coffee, cocoa with marshmallows, the oven going full out, toasters popping. There’s music playing softly in the background but it’s drown out by the thank-yous, I-love-its, and I-love-yous. It always happens way too early (adults) and way too late (kiddos) but either way, it always happens.

After gift giving, the youngest escape into the yard with wild whoops, careening around in the cold, darting between apple trees, or flying wide circles on the tree swing.

The adults sit back, tired, but smiling. Content. There is more coffee and quieter conversations. A few lost packages emerge from under the drifts of wrapping paper. Something goes missing, maybe a shoe, maybe an earring, maybe a coat. It’s found.

Then furniture is replaced, having been relegated to the front porch in the attempt to squeeze every last inch of space out of the room for gifts and people. Maybe a movie is queued up. Maybe the soft holiday songs finally get their chance.

Some people linger. Others jet off to another gathering with more family or friends. But that morning, for those few hours when we are all together, is something special. A tradition that reminds us the best gift we can give and receive isn’t in the wrapping paper. It’s in sharing time, reconnecting, being present, being a part of someone else’s life.

Dear readers, I want to thank you for letting my stories be a part of your life. Until next time, I wish you a very happy December and hope your traditions, (old, or just thought up today) are the merriest of all!