It’s late and I’m still searching for the spirit of Christmas. There’s no tree for it to hide under and my heart is worn and tired. Despite the twinkling lights and colorful trappings of the season, Christmas remains elusive.
Writing always helps clear away the noise that can mask the truth. A small collection of chocolate and tea fueled a pen laying ink across a journal; thoughts of life and Christmas on my mind.
Earlier in the day I rode the Vespa through the countryside to refresh my outlook on the day. Family and friends visited the previous day for a pre-Christmas celebration — a reminder of how blessed I am. Riding in the chill air of winter reminded me of how fragile I am on every count. And that I’ve always been that way. Any complaints of age are just a different view of the same thing.
Riding, and lately in life, it’s been a long and winding road. On two wheels it’s rather simple to negotiate. At home it’s more challenging. In three days my wife will be consulting a neurosurgeon in hopes of finding a path back to some semblance of life that involves walking. During this time of doubt I’ve been thinking a lot about change and how resistant I can be to its demands.
Riding along on Christmas Eve I was wondering if there wasn’t a gift wrapped amidst the awful things happening now — acceptance of change as the relentless engine of living. And that whatever change comes along, my job is to accept it as a part of my life.
One last look. The Vespa near midnight as a light snow falls. Another ride to look for the spirit of Christmas. It’s cold but the roads are still clear. The world is quiet. Everyone at hope awaiting St. Nick.
Riding along empty streets as the clock approaches midnight on Christmas Eve. Lights twinkle and I’m wondering what I’m doing. Christmas is at home; with Kim and the dogs. Home is where the heart is. It lives in the heart.
I’m a slow learner for sure. Tired, worn and not thinking straight. Chasing memories of childhood holidays with Santa, toys and a carefree life. And suddenly I’m closing in on my 64th year and it’s different. Things have changed.
Home now, after midnight. It’s Christmas Day though there’s still time for the spirits to visit. The dogs are snoozing at my feet as I unwrap small, gold foil wrapped blocks of chocolate as this post draws to a close.
It’s Christmas. To each of you, as with me, it’s meaning is unique to each of us. Sometimes easy to find and understand, and at times hidden and difficult to find. But it’s there waiting to be found.
Best wishes to you for a Merry Christmas. And hopes that whatever holiday or belief you follow, you’ll find the road that suits you best.