It’s still life. 20 months and a week or so later, we’re still here; dancing forward and falling back. Himself, the master of the house, the blond, blue-eyed, tall toddler has wrapped the Nonnie and the Poppie and the Kimber dog ’round his every finger. His mother is deeply in love with him, and he with her. He is the very spirit of the house and lord of all that he surveys.
Enter ‘the holidays’. A decade plus have seen them observed under a cloud of uncertainty, haunted by our own ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Yet to Come. I totally and humbly and personally understand the annual season of suffering this is for so very many people, and I keep them all in my prayers.
This – his first sentient Noel – we are a little closer. It is our Advent- to come closer- whatever we have yet to accomplish, resolve, let go of, embrace, or forgive; with all the change I feel coming; and against sweeping odds, there is a feeling of faith in my heart, a whisper of triumph in my future, and a song of exultation on my lips. Bring it on, Wenceslas, Dickens, and Baby, It’s Cold Outside. It. Is. Still. Life.