For all the long waiting we must do before we get there, it’s a good thing Christmastide stretches twelve days. This way, we can ease back into life, after we’ve taken moments for gratitude and moments for quiet and a few moments for going stir crazy.
Gratitude. Christmas morning, Miska gave me a pair of fuzzy Keen slippers that say “Winn” if ever a pair of slippers have. She also gave me a calendar, with photographs I’ve taken and words I’ve loved or will come to love. And she gave me a book with fabulous pictures of treehouses from around the world. If a guy’s got fuzzy slippers and good words and a treehouse to wander off into and (best of all) the kind of wife who knows him well enough to give him such things … what more?
Quiet. Our house has been quiet the past few days. We still have two boys, so there’s noise – but not the kind of noise that sits heavy, noise from the pace of things. I don’t know that I’ve used this time as well as I’d hoped. I’ve only started (and barely) one novel, but then quiet space is the sort of thing you simply have to take as it comes. Otherwise, you’ve entirely missed the point. Miska did buy a bottle of Carolans Irish Cream – and that’s a fine companion on a quiet evening. A quiet evening with the woman you love and Carolans and fuzzy slippers.
Stir-crazy. I did mention the two young boys, didn’t I? Yet another reason for the Carolans.
In this stretch of Christmastide, I wish you gratitude and quiet — and even a little stir-crazy (or some brand of crazy) to keep you honest.