Sunday, December 30, 2007

Resolutions

I resolve to appreciate more sunsets and rainbows, more clear starry nights and big golden moons; I resolve to indulge in more tender hugs, more soft kisses, and all of the everyday magic around me..

I resolve to smile more and talk more and to be more patient with my fellow beings than I am sometimes. I resolve to be on the look out for far more silver linings and far fewer dark clouds.

I resolve to sing more, to fret less, to dream more, to worry less; I resolve to dance when the mood strikes and cry when the occasion warrants; I resolve to cherish every kindness and to do my best to let go of any slights (real or imagined.)

I resolve to dance more…in the sunshine, in the moonlight, in rainshowers, whenever music takes hold of me and bids me to do so; I resolve to write more, to learn more, to know more, to be more.

I resolve to not let the incessant media coverage of preening and/or self-destructive narcissists bother me as much as it has in the past (though, I reserve the right to wonder why the vapid lives of people like Britney Spears and Paris Hilton merit so much media attention.)

I resolve to give more and expect less…life often works out this way in any case and so going with this particular flow can only make the path that much easier to negotiate.

I resolve to hang onto memories but to live firmly in the now. I resolve to respect the past but to look forward to whatever the future brings.

I resolve to believe in magic, and laughter, and love…I resolve to be the best me I can be, a little better me than I was yesterday, a less better me than I will be tomorrow.

I resolve to...Be.

Namaste, y’all.

Tuesday, December 25, 2007

150 Words: Breathe

“What are you doing?” she asked. She knew that it would take a moment for him to reply so she waited patiently.

The night stretched out towards infinity, the lazy gold moon nestled in the starry tapestry.

He smiled softly looking up from the blanket on the lawn. “I’m looking at the sky.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s there.”

It was her turn to smile; she should have expected that answer. “Okay. Can I watch too?”

He patted the ground next to him. “The more the merrier.”

She snuggled down next to him and looked up. “Now what do we do?”

He took her hand and held it. “Lay back and relax.”

She did so, engaged by the sparkling distant stars.

“Lay back…relax…and breathe.”

She breathed and the world slipped away and the universe enveloped her. “Wow.”

He smiled again. “Yeah.” Silently they watched the stars together for a good long while.

Wednesday, December 19, 2007

a merry little Christmas

We rush about to and fro, spending money we don’t have to prove love and friendship that should be known unspoken… but it’s all right.

We hear holiday music unto the point where Nat Cole singing about roasting chestnuts or Bing Crosby dreaming of snow is burned into our consciousnesses against our collective will…but it’s all right.

We dream of Yuletides long gone and fret that those days were better than the nowadays…we string our lights and trim our trees and stand on line at the Post Office while wondering why we’re doing all of it…but it’s all right.

We stop to sing…we stop to share faith, love, peace, and laughter…we pause to bask in the warmth of fireplaces and in the joyful company of friends and other loved ones…we exchange whimsical cards and brightly wrapped gift offerings…we remember, for a soft eternal moment, that the season is filled with light and music and golden magic when we let it be. And it is, wondrously, all right…

…have yourself a merry little Christmas,
make the Yuletide gay,
from now on our troubles will be far away…

Peace, joy, love, light, and laughter to you one and all.

Happy Christmas,
Michael


Friday, December 14, 2007

150 Words: Showtime

This is always the hard part, she thought, as she watched her husband sleeping soundly. He was, she knew, ready for that special night of nights but first he had to get up.

She nudged him and he grunted. “It’s time, sweetheart,” she said.

He grunted again and she shook him harder. “It’s time, big guy,” she insisted, “time to rise and shine.”

“Don’t wanna,” the old man slurred, “tell ‘em to go without me.”

The old woman chuckled affectionately. “They can’t do that…there’s no magic without you. So get up, it’s showtime!”

The old man sighed and rolled over. He sighed and then, with surprising grace for a man of his girth, he rolled out of bed. “Tell me why I do this every year?”

“It’s for the children, Nick,” the old woman said handing him a steaming mug of coffee.

“Right…the children…ho…ho…ho…”

“That’s the spirit, dear,” she smiled.

Thursday, December 13, 2007

Acknowledging the Sunrise (on Christmas Morning)

Katie sat patiently at the top of the carpeted stairs…more patiently than she, all of 8 years old with the incumbent restlessness that typified that age, would at almost any other time. The house was still and cool and dark and Katie, bundled in her favorite robe, was waiting. Her parents and her brother were sleeping in their rooms but she was wide awake and waiting…waiting for the sunrise and waiting for the sunrise to be acknowledged.

It was Christmas morning and on that day, more than any other day, Katie wanted and needed to witness the sunrise and she wanted and needed to hear it acknowledged.

Through the windows below Katie could see tendrils of warm light stealing surely from the eastern horizon and she smiled expectantly. In the great room below the staircase, the tall tree, festooned with delicate bulbs and ribbons and strings of popcorn and surrounded at its base with a wealth of brightly wrapped treasures soon to be exchanged and gratefully accepted, seemed to be waiting as well.

Katie heard a door open down the hall but she didn’t look around.

“What are you doing, squirt?” her brother Scott, 8 years her senior and ever her most stalwart protector after getting over the shock of no longer being their parents’ only child back when he was Katie’s age, said while unsuccessfully stifling a yawn.

Katie waved her hand to quiet him. “Waiting,” she whispered.

Scott, ever accepting of his little sister’s whimsies, chuckled through yet another yawn, and sat down next to Katie at the top of the stairs. “Waiting for what?” he asked.

“It’s coming, just hold on,” she replied.

They sat in expectant silence until the clock in the entryway below struck 6 and, in the same instant, the bells began to sing throughout the town. On this day, more than any other day, they sang from every church, acknowledging the sunrise, acknowledging another glorious Christmas morning…they sang, a wondrous cacophony resonating through the still winter’s air, and Katie smiled guilelessly.

Katie leaned into her brother and Scott put his arm around her as the bells softly faded. “That’s what I was waiting for,” she whispered.

Scott smiled. “You’re an odd duck, Katie girl,” he said affectionately.

Katie, knowing how much Scott loved her, took no offense. “Merry Christmas, big brother,” she said leaning up to kiss Scott’s cheek.

Scott hefted Katie onto his shoulder and stood up. “Merry Christmas, baby sister,” he said as he carried her, giggling, down the stairs.

Friday, December 07, 2007

150 Words: The Only Two People in the Room

Joseph and Helen met at a dance when they were 17…he was stoic and yet romantic, she was demure and yet passionate…and they spent the evening waltzing…he was earnest but awkward, she was graceful and patient…as if they were the only people in the room.

They courted for a year and were engaged for a year and then they married. 57 years later, they still sometimes felt like the only two people in the room…but not when surrounded by their family.

Their family…children and grandchildren…gathered from near and far in their welcoming home for Christmas and Joseph and Helen gave thanks for all of the blessings in their life.

And every Christmas Eve…after their family had settled down to sleep…Joseph and Helen…stoic and romantic, earnest and awkward, demure and passionate, graceful and patient…waltzed by the light of the Christmas tree, still and always the only two people in the room.

Monday, December 03, 2007

Snowfall (Part 2 of 2)

(Part 1 of this story is here)

Two days before Christmas, Carole awoke to find the skies still gray and the ground a carpet of perfect white. It was not at all what she had hoped for but it was, she had to admit to herself, exactly what she had expected.

After breakfast, she sat at the kitchen table and made calls to her family…her Dad, her Grandfather, her sister-in-law Melissa Joshua, her sister Kim, her brother Tom, her Aunt Janey, and her cousin April. It seemed to be snowing everywhere they were and yet none of them seemed to be the least bit worried about it.

“Your mother and I wouldn’t miss this for the world, princess,” her father said. He’d called her “princess” since she was 3 and he had no intention of stopping. Carole always pretended that she didn’t like it but her father knew better. Carole loved that he knew better. “Your mother wanted to make sure you got the Granny Smith apples,” he added. “You know she only makes pies with Granny Smith apples.”

Carole’s mother had insisted on baking the pies for Christmas dinner dismissing as “nonsense” Carole’s offer to just buy some pies. “I got the right apples, Dad,” she said, “Mom would never let me here the end of it if I got that wrong.”

“We’ll be there tomorrow evening with bells on, honey,” he father said, “don’t you worry.” Carole smiled to herself as she realized, once again, how much Jason was like her father in terms of temperament; her dad had survived her tumultuous post-puberty years with an equanimity that had really ticked her off when she was girl but which made her feel lucky and loved in her adult years.

And all of her family members said variations of the same thing when she talked to them. The snow wasn’t weighing on any of her family as they prepared to journey from their far-flung cities and towns to her quiet suburban neighborhood. It was Christmastime, they all said in one way or another, and things would work out just fine. Carole always thought of her family as being more like her and less like Jason but she had to concede that she might be mistaken about that.

Last year, Jim and Melissa had held such a wonderful celebration at their house in Virginia that Carole felt a special urgency to at least make this year equally festive for her family.

“It’s snowing everywhere,” Carole said as Jason came up from the basement with a basketful of freshly washed bed linens. “Fritos in airports, just you watch.”

Jason laughed. “You have a vivid imagination, sweetheart,” he said, heading up the stairs that led from the kitchen to the second floor. “It’s going to be the best Christmas ever.”

“That kind of unbridled optimism is probably a sign of some kind of mental illness, you know?” She called up after him.

It wasn’t the first time she had said something like that to him and it wouldn’t be the last time either. “I’m cool with that,” he called back. He started singing “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” at the top of his lungs before she could say anything else.

Carole shook her head and laughed. She stood up and went to the window over the sink. The snow was still falling lazily and she was starting to find it hard to believe that everything was going to be okay. She couldn’t stop herself from thinking that the “best Christmas ever” was going to be attended by just Jason and herself. She did her best to push past the feeling and she went upstairs to help Jason making up the bedrooms.

On the day before Christmas, the snowfall was still coming down intermittently and Carole was wondering what she had done to the universe to deserve having the first family holiday gathering in her house to be called on account of snow. Jason, for his part, kept going as if everything was perfectly in order; he bundled up and went out to shovel the sidewalk and the driveway (and, being Jason, he ended up shoveling the sidewalks and driveways of the neighbors on either side of their house.)

A round robin of cell phone calls let them know that everybody was on the road and in the air, none of them willing to let the weather keep them from gathering together for the holidays. Carole’s mother called from Chicago while they were waiting to make a connecting flight.

“Things are a bit backed up, honey,” Carole’s mother said, “so we’re stuck here for a while.”

Carole’s heart sank.

“But we’ll be there,” her mother added confidently. “A snowy Christmas will be wonderful. The children will love being able to make snowmen and have snowball fights.”

“You’re right, Mom,” Carole said half-heartedly, a bit weary of all of the chipper positive energy coming from everybody. “What’s Daddy doing?”

“He got hungry so he went to snack bar to get some Fritos.”

Carole stifled a laugh and excused herself as quickly as she could.

As the Christmas Eve night began to slip away nobody had arrived.

Carole and Jason, curled up by the crackling fire sipping eggnog, waited in silence.

“Aren’t you going to tell me that everything is going to be okay?” Carole asked, half as a taunt and half as need to be reassured by his optimism.

“Nope,” he said softly.

She was startled by the response. “Why not?”

He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Because you wouldn’t believe me if I did,” he said softly but not unkindly.

Carole closed her eyes and snuggled into her husband. She did her best to take her mind off the Christmas that might not be. She did her best to take her mind off her family snowed in at airports or truck stops. She did her best to take her mind off her father eating Fritos in the Chicago airport. At some point she drifted off into a dreamless sleep. She remembered half walking at one point and finding herself being carried up the stairs in Jason’s strong arms and being into their bed but then she surrendered to sleep once again.

On Christmas Day, Carole woke up after having slept long and deep. She was still in something of a fog as stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom. Jason was already up and out of bed but she didn’t call out to him. Carole showered and before she dressed she decided to re-take the test she’d taken 5 days earlier.

Afterwards she dressed and wandered down towards the stairs that led to the kitchen. She needed to call and find out how her family members were doing and she needed a strong cup of coffee. She smiled as she started down the stairs and caught a whiff of coffee wafting up. She could also smell the aroma of cinnamon rolls…the familiar aroma that greeted her every Christmas morning when she was growing up…Jason must have gotten up to bake them for her.

When Carole walked into the kitchen, there was food out in various states of preparation…the turkey was in the sink, unbaked pies were on the counter, unpeeled potatoes were on another counter next to vegetables, spices, and other things needed to create Christmas dinner. It was only then that it registered on her that there were multiple laughing voices coming from the other room. Before she could move the kitchen swung open.

“Well, good morning, sleepyhead!” A cheery voice said. “It’s about time you got out of that bed.”

Carole shook her head. “Mom? You’re here?”

Carole’s mother wiped her hands on her apron and enveloped her daughter in a big hug. “Of course we’re here, silly,” she said. “Where else would we be?”

Carole returned her mother’s hug still not quite believing she was there. “Eating Fritos in the airport?”

Carole’s mother laughed. “You aren’t completely awake, are you?” She went over to the coffee pot. “Well, some coffee and a cinnamon roll will make your whole world right.”

Carole wandered over to the door. “Everybody’s here?”

“Yes, sweetheart,” her mother said handing her a steaming mug of coffee. “The snow stopped and the roads cleared. Your father and I got here about 2 AM…Melissa and Jim and the baby were already here and everybody else got here not long after that. Good thing Jason was waiting for us or we might’ve had to wake you up…”

Carole pushed open the door and looked through to the family room. They were all there… her Grandfather, her brother Jim and his wife Melissa and their baby Joshua, her sister Kim and her fiancĂ©e Jeff, her Aunt Janey and her Uncle Michael, her cousin April were sipping coffee and nibbling on cinnamon rolls while her father, her brother Tom and his boys, and her Jason were adding the final touches to the Christmas tree. The pile of colorfully wrapped gifts underneath the tree had grown. She glanced out the window and saw that the snowfall had indeed stopped.

Carole’s mother slipped her arm around Carole’s waist and hugged her again. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” she said.

Carole leaned her head on her mother’s shoulder. “Merry Christmas, Mom.”

Jason looked over and came over to them. He kissed Carole as Carole’s mom went over to join the others. “Merry Christmas, pretty girl,” he said. “And I won’t even say ‘I told you so’.”

Carole elbowed him playfully. “Thanks for that, wise guy.” She looked at Jason feeling like her heart was so full that it would burst. She leaned into him and whispered, “I’m pretty sure we’re pregnant.”

Jason recoiled, his face covered with a quizzical smile and then he leaned over and kissed her. “Cool.”

Carole smiled and leaned into him. “I knew that’s what you say,” she chuckled. She looked over at her family and sighed. “They made it…they all made it…maybe there is a little magic in Christmas…”

Jason hugged her. “Ha!” he teased, “not so cynical after all, are ya?”

Carole elbowed him again. “Shut up.” Just then the rest of her family caught sight of her and gathered around to exchange hugs and kisses and playful taunts with her.

The rest of the morning was blur of gift exchanges amidst bright smiles and waves of appreciative laughter. Carole’s father and Jason and Tom and Tom’s boys went out to play in the fallen snow while Carole, her mother, her brother Jim, and her sister-in-law Melissa set about the serious business of making dinner.

That night at dinner Carole shared the news with the family while Jason beamed proudly. And later, after the excitement of the day had worn off and the weariness of late night travels and waiting had taken Jason and the rest of her family to bed, Carole sat alone by the fireplace sipping cocoa, gently patting her stomach, and smiling wistfully. It had been a wonderful Christmas despite all of her worries.

Carole looked out of the window at the front lawn…at the snow, glistening softly in the amber streetlight, and nodded appreciatively. “Cool,” she said before closing the fireplace doors and going upstairs to join Jason in their bed.