Thick draws the dark,
And spark by spark,
The frost-fires kindle, and soon...

~ Walter de la Mare

~*~

There's something about marrying the childhood traditions and memories with new traditions...the creation of new memories and thoughts and feelings and sensations. The sound of snow when it falls; the scent of twig tea, curling up in steam; the veritable joy of finding (or creating) the perfect gift for someone who is your entire world...

Noticing the sun...even more than you usually do. How it, tirelessly, rises and falls, rises and falls, over the edge of the entire earth, beating down a slim, cool light that colors the trees at its rise with silver and gold, and the snowy hills at its set with lavender. The crunch of the snow beneath your boots as you walk happy puppies over mounds of the stuff, struggling to maintain your balance as they play tag with one another, laughing at the antics as they form perfect figure eights around you. You read their language in the snow.

There's a glory in sneaking around...making extra trips, finding time when your baby could not possibly think there was any...and you find that gift. And you squirrel it away, and it's perfect and you keep thinking of her face on Solstice morning, and this bright, warm glow fills your heart, and you feel the sun reflected there. Because it is. And you laugh and smile and wrap tiny little things with careful fingers, listening to Bing wish you a white Christmas. And it transcends political correctness, and you don't care who is Christian, and who is Pagan, and if he were there right now, you'd wish him the same.

Because it's not happy holidays or merrry christmas or blessed yule or any of the countless phrases people throw back and forth in jubilant voices. It's the jubilance itself. It's the hope and love that you feel from people you'd least expect it, and the way people hold the door and give you a smile and hand you back the dollar bill you dropped and didn't notice. And even in all the mishmosh of shoppers and treasures and traffic, there's the kind soul who locks eyes with you and returns the grin you gave them.

There's tea and cookies and carols and glitter everywhere. The fresh smell of roses and pine fills the cathedrals, and you walk along the icy sidewalks with a spectacular reverence for all of the stars twinkling in the trees...or are those lights?

And you wait, and you wait, and you wait for the longest night of the year. Because somehow, the stars and suns and moons and all the billions of planets you are certain exist seem closer...and all the billions and billions of hearts and souls glow and pulse with the everlasting hope and brilliance that comes from believing that day will come again. That this is night, but it turns to sunrise...and then...it's Solstice.

So you wait. And you sit back and marvel at the beautiful nature of mankind. And the world.

And you rejoice.


by robbie1