Small Lights, Lasting Memories

Each morning, I plug in the Christmas tree lights. The tree sits right beside my computer and it is nice to see it glow. I believe I enjoy the ornaments more this year than I have for several years. As I said the other day, the tree is decorated with memories, many of them going back  forty years. In times past, remembering the hands that made them or the childish faces that lit up when they gave them to me, brought pangs of loneliness–well, OK, maybe a few tears–but this year, I just enjoy them and am very glad for them and the people they represent. I feel blessed when I look at them.

Christmas is barely two weeks away. Have you thought of that? And I still have a few stocking stuffers I need to get. I may venture out on the streets later today although schools are closed, for safety’s sake. I’ve had experience with icy roads in times past and I don’t like the feeling of not being in control and winding up in a ditch. I enjoy a beautiful, snowy day but I respect its potential too.

Each year, I like to make a few of my own hand-drawn and Prismacolor-painted Christmas cards. Only thing is, I never start soon enough. I should have gotten at this in January. Procrastination is not usually a good thing although at times, it may have worked out for the best. I find myself thinking, “I’ll do that, but first, I need to do this.” And, one thing leads to another and my original plan slips somewhere far down on my list of things I’ve started and finished. Weird thinking but then,  you know that already.

Semi-good news to share on Barbara’s and my third Darcy/Flora cozy, Best Left Buried. A publisher is interested. Now, saying that he is interested is a long way from offering a contract, but it is a hopeful sign. I’ll let you know how that turns out.

Not one car has gone down my snow-packed street since I sat down to write this morning. I see my neighbor’s solar lights glowing in the darkness. I’ve always thought that lights at night (or in the wee , small hours of the morning) are welcoming and homey-looking. They remind me of little deeds of kindness, or acts of love, sort of like those tree ornaments. The world would be dark indeed without them.