Monday November 29th
I am removing November’s huge calendar from the wall and can’t bring myself to hang January. I usually hang two months at once, so planning takes place, but today dealing with the end of another Covid year, entering the new year of my eightieth birthday, feels too overwhelming. I am not ready for this year to be over or face all the good resolutions made at the beginning of another New Year.
I am going to concentrate on gathering all the Christmas tree lights and decorations and dressing the seven-foot tree sitting now on the balcony. It is an elegant tall tree, glistening and dark green, and will be happier outdoors than in a warm living room, but will still be the focal point of the space. It will take several days of fiddling around with what to put on and what to leave off, but eventually it will fill us with pleasure that bring smiles to everyone’s face. For me, the tree this year is a celebration of a long and interesting life and a reminder that ritual is there to have us pause for a moment, give thanks for the richness of what we have and the capacity to accept whatever lies ahead.
