It took awhile to get everyone out the door this morning. My niece Elliana was cranky, my parents were quietly and covertly making jabs at one another, my father and his sister (who is up visiting from Peru) were arguing over the Iraq war; Cecilia, for once, didn't say a word and quietly got ready and escaped this morning for work without setting off fireworks somewhere over something.
Rhiannon eventually left with her two cranky little girls to head over to her mother's house, Cecilia took off for work (on time!) and my parents and my aunt argued their way out the door and to the car, on their way down to Atlantic City to take Tony for a follow-up appointment. I propped open the storm door and helped Tony wheel his way out as he made some ridiculous comment about not being able to wait until he could rock a walker. I leaned over to kiss him on the cheek and whispered "good luck", my parents' arguing voices still accenting the air. He rolled his eyes and headed toward the car.
And here I am now; I actually cooked myself breakfast this morning and am enjoying a cup of coffee (somehow I've become a coffee drinker these past several weeks). I realize now that this is the first time I've been alone in quite a long time. Probably several weeks, or even months. Yesterday there were 13 people in this house; today, I am all alone and it kind of feels nice.
I can stretch, and I can breathe without the tension that is typically floating around this place I love to hate so much.
Tensions have been oh so high lately.
Thirteen people and thirteen thousand opinions... it's been a disaster waiting to happen. We've all been handed a new life and none of us have had any time to adjust to it. Or maybe it's just me that feels this way - I confess that I've not necessarily talked to anyone else about their feelings on this.
Ugh. And now, for whatever reason, I feel like scrapping this entire thing.
But I won't. I won't because I've not written anything in so long and it kind of kills me a little.
My brain continues to write; sometimes I write some pretty damned good things, but they never make it far enough to reach my fingers; to reach the page.
It's sometimes a little frustrating. Sometimes a lot.
But then there is this: there is snow when I least expected it. And I was grateful for it and I'll tell you why. Because every year Christmas sneaks up on me in a furious way and makes me feel like it's a project rather than a celebration. I face yet another deadline and it's here and gone faster than I can (usually) handle.
But this snow - it started falling unexpectedly and at all different crazy paces. It was fast and thick, then small and slow. I sat still for a minute, or two, or twenty. I did nothing for awhile but sit and stare, watching it fall and noting the changes in frequency, density, and speed.
And then I whipsered a small bit of thanks to God.
This is all it took for me to feel prepared for Christmas - for me to feel like it wasn't sneaking up on me out of nowhere.
Pretty groovy, eh?