There are boxes of gifts that I ordered, stacked in storage, waiting to be wrapped. My supply of paper (it is plain this year, a batch each of red and navy, textured and nice) has arrived. The grosgrain ribbons stand neatly in rolls, also at the ready. I ordered sturdy brown boxes, too, that I know I will have a happy time filling with all kinds of pretty. I just need to find the time to get down to it. Today, the first Christmas present of the year was delivered: a clear glass jar filled with delicious meringue. We have been eating it for dessert after meals, with tea and stories.
This year went by so fast, and I pray for a December that will seal all the 11 months that were, beautifully. I look forward to the coming days; I hope they are languid, love-filled, frenzied maybe, too, but kind and beautiful in every way that matters. I will allow myself to enjoy all those long meals with kith and kin, not rushing through any of it, lingering instead around the table filled with warm bodies for a remembrance of stories, both past and present. I would like for each moment to be steeped in gratitude, for all that was, is, and also all that is yet to be.