French Christmas

Centering

On the first icy morning of 2011, I woke up feeling fuzzy and slightly off-balance. It might have had something to do with this:

And this:

Oh yeah, and these:

All those sugar crystals and champagne bubbles and happy-celebration molecules joined together in one big New Year's Eve conga line in my brain, and while they had a heck of a time doing so, they also  knocked over a few vases and bookshleves in the process. So there I was, once again saying to myself, "Self! You are tired and not awake! Yet you must get to your 10:00 a.m. yoga class to welcome in 2011 in time to make a beautiful New Year's Day brunch before you start tackling each item on your New Year's resolution list!"

Of course it was already 11:30 a.m. ... so  I was at least an hour and half behind on my grandiose plans for New Year's Day. Paralyzed by New Year's anxiety (and some holiday post-partum depression) I was just about to throw in the towl on the whole day, when I realized there was still one yoga class scheduled for 2:30. I grabbed my mat, my water bottle, and sprinted out the door just in time for the opening "om."

As I saluted and chataranga-ed, warriored and twisted, all those rebellious little party molecules that were still singing karoake started to get sleepy and lay down for a post-New Year's Eve nap. I rocked back and forth, rocked my body back into balance, and in doing so remembered that I didn't have to get everything done today. I  had 364 days and 9 hours to make all my dreams for 2011 come true.

Happy Birthday

Once a long time ago, I had a dream of you during an afternoon nap. We were in Aunt Fran's kitchen, where we often stood by the sink, working on something delicious or cleaning up the mess afterwards. Come to think of it, the last time I saw you might have just been in that very spot.With the steam from the ovens beading up on the windows and the afternoon sun rolling in through the curtains and the smells of brownies and the sounds of voices, the voices of our tribe, wrapping all around us.

The dream came just after you left us, but in my mind it seemed like it had already been much longer, and I asked you if you were living in some warm and wonderful place. And you said yes indeed, and that you were well. And I remember asking you if would you take me with you, and you just smiled and said "not yet." And then you were gone.

Today is your birthday--not the day you came into the world, but the day you left it. The day you went somewhere else and became something new. What that something new is I don't know, but I know it's something, not just a nothingness, because I can still see your face and hear your voice and feel you when I need you.

So I'll light a birthday candle for you tonight, because I want you to know that we have not forgotten; that a physical separation has not stopped our celebration of you.

Sunday after Thanksgiving

And still feeling thankful and full, not from turkey, but from all the amazing people I've been blessed to have in my life. Thanks to all of YOU!