Quiet
The best thing about Christmas for me is the quiet. There’s a hush in the neighborhood and everyone seems to have some place to be. Those who don’t, of course, are hiding somewhere, sulking, mourning, idling away the day so that it doesn’t hurt too much.
We’re flying out of a busy airport tonight, and I expect it to be no different than it normally is. I am sure that the airport CNN channel will be unavoidable, and as usual, murder, mayhem, injustice and manufactured “heartwarming” tales will permeate. Wearing headphones on the plane can’t drown out the jet noise, nor the probably animated passengers (and their crying babies).
No, the best thing for me today is twofold: the quiet of this morning and the prospect of seeing an old friend at the end of a long day. And I’m sure once we plug the kids in OR get them to bed, we will enjoy some quiet moments together, with coffee, pie (or pie talk), and laughter. Happy kids, chit-chat and tuning out the cacaphony of a world gone mad…. my kind of quiet.
As for creativity, the turkey really did me in yesterday, but it was something else. I know you can’t be creative all the time, and perhaps my creative spirit was taking a holiday. Or was overburdened by all the excitement. But as always, I watch and observe myself, an anthropologist to my own life and wonder when it will return, and whether or not I need to spur myself on.
Whatever comes, I’ll be ready, with blank book, pen and some music on the headphones. And a new pedometer in case I have to go walkies to find it.
Merry Christmas Tree, everyone of my readers (all four of you). Brightest Blessings!