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’Twas the Week Before Christmas
Somewhere up North, I am imagining in my childlike mind, an angry, frigid, icicle laden old man with a beard and frostbitten, bushy eyebrows, blowing out an Arctic wind.
Somewhere up North, I am imagining in my childlike mind, an angry, frigid, icicle laden old man with a beard and frostbitten, bushy eyebrows, blowing out an Arctic wind.
The sidewalks are slick with frozen rain from the night before, the temperatures plummeting below zero, and the snow picking up the tempo, rapidly piling up and blowing past my window.
It is a good day to be home.
A day to slow down and to catch up.
With you.
You are my favorite people. You are the ones I love.
You are those who love me,
It is a good day to be home.
A day to slow down and to catch up.
With you.
You are my favorite people. You are the ones I love.
You are those who love me,
to the moon and back again.
This, my Christmas letter to you is a time honored tradition.
This is when I tell you about our lives, our loved ones, our travels, our joys and our losses.
And I would, honestly,
This, my Christmas letter to you is a time honored tradition.
This is when I tell you about our lives, our loved ones, our travels, our joys and our losses.
And I would, honestly,
I would, but there is a bell ringing.
No, not the door.
No, not the phone.
There is, I swear, a teeny tiny silver bell, hanging from a silver thread on our Christmas tree, shivering and shaking.
Each and every time I walk past.
There are six silent silver bells on my tree.
I have stared at each and every one of them.
No, not the door.
No, not the phone.
There is, I swear, a teeny tiny silver bell, hanging from a silver thread on our Christmas tree, shivering and shaking.
Each and every time I walk past.
There are six silent silver bells on my tree.
I have stared at each and every one of them.
The ringing stops when I stare, and when I walk away, I swear I hear giggles. A childlike fit of giggles.
So here I stand, my back to the tree, staring out the window at the snow, hopeful I can catch the sneaky bell ringer.
Tinkle. Tinkle. Twinkle.
I swivel en pointe, and all is still.
Until I turn back to the window and a snowflake winks.
Winks at me and is gone.
I know none of you believe me.
I promise it’s true.
Because,
with every tiny ring tone,
and every winking snow drop,
I am reminded of you.
The blessings in my life.
The joy in our lives.
Mother Nature,
So here I stand, my back to the tree, staring out the window at the snow, hopeful I can catch the sneaky bell ringer.
Tinkle. Tinkle. Twinkle.
I swivel en pointe, and all is still.
Until I turn back to the window and a snowflake winks.
Winks at me and is gone.
I know none of you believe me.
I promise it’s true.
Because,
with every tiny ring tone,
and every winking snow drop,
I am reminded of you.
The blessings in my life.
The joy in our lives.
Mother Nature,
has a way of turning our heads away,
from the hustle and bustle of the season,
from the hustle and bustle of the season,
to the heart of the matter.
Ring. Friends.
Ring. Family.
Wink. Joy.
Ring. Friends.
Ring. Family.
Wink. Joy.
I am standing in the middle of a flash mob, an orchestra and choral voices soaring through the Christmas carols as everyone around me pauses, look up from their phones with wonder, and begins to sway. Babies cradled in arms, lovers nestled close, seniors holding hands.
I see you there. You see me here.
For this, this is Christmas.
Taking the time to be together.
Smiling and humming along a familiar tune from childhood.
Maybe, Silver Bells???
I see you there. You see me here.
For this, this is Christmas.
Taking the time to be together.
Smiling and humming along a familiar tune from childhood.
Maybe, Silver Bells???
Wherever you are, whatever you believe,
I wish you the tiny pause,
the one where a silver bell rings,
or a snowflake winks,
to let you know how much you are loved.
How dearly you are missed.
the one where a silver bell rings,
or a snowflake winks,
to let you know how much you are loved.
How dearly you are missed.
How richly you are blessed.
I must leave you now,
I must leave you now,
as the wooden Snowman in the garden,
just tipped his hat at me,
and strode away in the snow,
leaving only his footprints behind.
Isn’t life wonderful!!!
Isn’t life wonderful!!!
Merry Christmas From the Garden
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