Do you ever stumble on a note in your own handwriting, but the message is lost on even you?
’tis the season is a draft sitting in my blog with nothing written but the title.
I have no memory of its motivation. I have no memory of typing those words, yet here it sits.
Do I delete it? Was it important? Was I happy when I wrote it?
The title implies Christmas.
Was there a death? A lot of deaths occur around Christmas.
Was it nostalgia? I really missed my Mom playing carols on the piano this year.
Was it frustration? Christmas can be miserable with competitive shopping and hosting and shmoozing.
Was it excitement? Anticipation is the best part of the holidays, for me anyway.
Was it empathy? My cousin lost her husband this year and she and her babies have made a daily appearance in my thoughts since his death.
Or was it as it should be? Joy.
Yes, I will settle on joy. I have two beautiful children and a partner whose company I covet. Christmas at our house is energized with music, visitors, treats, giving, laughing, playing, making family our primary concern overall. Everything else takes a back seat at Christmas.
’tis the season of joy
That is how I shall construct the memory of this forgotten post.
Live within limits without limiting life
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