Already Passing.

photo by the amazing David Walden.

Quietly it falls, fluttering to the earth.  Leaves drop from the trees, leaving an empty waste of darkened branches slashed against a misted sky.  Winter comes in it's biting cold, vicious in it's brevity, to heighten the intense pleasure that comes at the warming dew of spring.

We can get lost in the winter, the short, lonely days, huddled at home, waiting for the end.  Forgetting that this is only a season, we begin to submerge ourselves in the discouragement of time.  Longing for the moment we can emerge.  To rid ourselves of the weight of coats and layers, to leap through green meadows, breathing the flower scented air.

It will end.  Pain, loneliness, heartbreak, sadness, will end.  They come in their seasons.  They come hard and quick, before you fully realize you're pushed under the weight.  There are times when it can seem to last an eternity.  When you forget who you were, when everything in life was right.  When every day was like music and you danced your way through.

A friend wrote a great post on this.  Charis Scofield.  She has such a way with words, with perspective.  You should read it.  Remind yourself that wherever you find yourself, it is a fleeting moment.

The hard times can be treasured, they enrich who we are.  The interludes of beauty are those that allow us to live out of the depths that life has carved for us.  When we're able to reminisce and enjoy the sweet reprieve that is just a moment away.



Even in winter is joy.  Christmas comes and snow.  Light steals it's way in and refreshing good happens when you're least expecting.  The cardinal comes to rest on the stark branch, the early morning frost turns the world to glass, the smoke curling from a chimney.

Immerse yourself where you are.  Remember it is already passing.  Today will never come again.  Embrace it, fill yourself on it.  Breathe it deep.  Stare at life as you live, wildly abandoned to it.

So long.

Christmas.  Goodbye, old friend.  I'll harken your return upon the morrow.

When a snow flake falls, I rush outside to catch it's damp beauty on my tongue.  I marvel at the glistening white that turns, a world of sodden rush, to quiet beauty.  I fill myself on the joy that comes from icy blasts of air and red cheeks, hands warmed around hot mugs of chocolate.  For a brief moment everything halts, slowly drops of lace fall, turning a muddy street to tufts of brilliant powder.  Trees hang, weighted, like old men who have said goodbye to many a friend.  Children watch, eagerly waiting the moment the flakes have piled themselves just high enough to whisk a sled to a pile of laughter.  So very, very brief is this moment.

Then out, you find yourself, gingerly placing your foot in the untouched snow.  Laughing as snowballs fly in wild abandon.  The pristine world, once more fills with the life and vibrancy of sound.  Before you fully felt your joy, the snow plows come, chasing away the wild fantasy of life that halted work and productivity.  Dogs must be released and tire tracks replace the halting prints of wonder.  Beauty quickly turns to ugly black ice banks and slippery mud sink feet in it's mire.  Just like that the magic fades.

The week after Christmas feels much like the week after a brilliant snow fall.  The sadness as the beauty slips away and the desperate demands of life sink you back to startling reality.  Gone are the bells and calls of cheer.  The wild, desperate shopping and baking that fills your home with the warmth of scent.  The lights and gleaming decor, replaced in their efficient boxes.  Trees that were picked with such care and wonder, tossed to the street.

Goodbye, goodbye.  

Sweet melancholy fills my heart and I whisper a heartfelt farewell.  I'll stay quiet this week.  I'll soak in the lingering bits of holiday.  I'll have just one more cup of cocoa with mounds of whipped cream.  I'll eat just one more cookie.  Then I'll tuck away all of the joy and memory from this beautiful year and hide it away to show one day to gleaming faces around a lighted tree.

Upon a jingle and a shout of glee, I'll whisper goodbye.

Just one more year and all will change.  We'll all be older.  We'll all be, just a little different.  Never again will this Christmas happen.  It was fleeting.  In that was the magic.

Goodbye.