This year I’m not. Not ready, not grumpy, but not filled with joy either. Just not. Usually I enjoy the pretty, and the seasonal music and smells. This year not. But here are some ghosts of Christmases past:
I have had one joy note:
Two of my nieces stopped by this past week for a masked, socially distanced, visit on the porch and in the yard. No physical hugs, but they brought me this incredible poinsettia:
I’m treasuring it and going to use it as my Christmas tree this year. I need to stay isolated because my father, who is part of our pod, has to have major heart surgery next month and a case of covid would likely be deadly for him.
It does seem like when you are starting to feel bleak something, like a text message from a much loved niece, comes to break the bleak. May all of you have bleak-breakers and long distance love this season.