‘‘Twas the Night

What a hectic and fulfilling holiday, the traditions redone in new fashion, evolving and yet…

Some adaptation and exhaustion, recalling the lines about not having to eat it all… do you think she does not know that?  And memories of the summer, and the apologies for the smell of a dump at Caribou Lake.

The roles are set, and hard not to remember the days of Covid that were spent here, on this couch and that office, the deck and driveway, imagining the future that has arrived.  21.5 weeks, if it can be believed.  

So much to come.  So much to anticipate and navigate and savour.  A busy year.  Full of exceptional moments, and the need at last to describe them with the proper lettering.  Take the time offered, use it for the body and mind, to set yourself on the right road.  How many more nights under the same roof on this holy night?  Until the new traditions begin?

I wonder.  But with such a contented smile.  On this ancient couch.  Al in the air, and the skis laid out upstairs with chocolate milk and eggnog by Kath and indefatigable mom, Dad listening to the Ken Burns country music doc instead of the best plays of the year, and a Zambian asleep where you so often did when this pandemic began.  Such a marvel. 

I will tell you about it all some day, my son.  I’m pretty sure of what I saw, after you turned your face from your thumb toward the invisible camera.  Grow on, with as little discomfort to Mama as possible.