There is a bite to the air now. Just a little sting in the breeze; it is frozen Artic air, trying to creep southwards, and wash winter over us.
I'm busy, unloading the minivan, carrying groceries and supplies in to the house. I don't "do" Black Friday, that uniquely American tradition of frenzied post-Thanksgiving consumerism; once upon a time I was a retail manager, and saw quite enough of the madness first hand. I am stocking up for Thanksgiving, and the long weekend ahead. Now I won't go back into the stores until Monday.
The wind thinks it is teasing me. It nips at my ankles, and as I straighten up to carry another load into the house, it slides down the back of my neck, dribbling cold air down my spine. I shiver involuntarily, and hurry back towards the warm, golden light that spills from the doorway.
My kitchen is literally in the center of our house. It isn't very large, and I wish I had more storage, but it is cozy, and cheerful. Now it is the repository for my latest shopping expedition, and there are bags and boxes stacked on the counters and the floor. To the uninitiated, it might appear chaotic, however it is not long before everything is put away.
The darkness sneaks in earlier these days, and the wind continues to blow outside. Where it cuts around the corners of the house, it complains, moaning and groaning. It shakes the old pecan trees that my family planted so many years ago, and it sweeps the dry leaves into drifts around the foundation of the house. Inside my kitchen, there is warmth radiating from the oven where my special crustless pumpkin pies are baking. Waiting for their time in the oven is a tray of brownie cupcakes that will be topped with a cream-cheese frosting when they are cooled. The inky night outside the window is colder now, but inside my kitchen the air is sweet and fragrant and comforting.
Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. My contributions to the holiday meal are nearly complete; the pies are cooling, the little brownies have been frosted, and the kitchen has been cleaned and tidied. The house is quiet, and for the first time today, I have time to consider the day ahead.
We will drive Two Hours East tomorrow. We will take the desserts I have made; we will go over the river, and through the woods to Grandmother's house. We will spend the day together as a family, and when we come home again tomorrow evening, we will have empty pie pans, and hearts full of memories.
I am thankful for more than can be contained in one mere post. My family, my home, my church, my friends, my country, top the list.
I hope you know, I am thankful for you too. My BlogFriends - most of whom are annonymous, but who are still precious to me. I count your friendship among my many treasures, and as one of the things I am thankful for every day.
Happy Thanksgiving, from my house to yours.
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Monday, November 13, 2006
Looking for the Magic
Today was a Magic Day.
It started this morning when I took Twinks to school. We stepped out of the house, and the sweet, sharp cold air pushed the breath from our lungs, and filled us with that unmistakable smell of autumn. I remember that smell; it is the aroma of a thousand days spent walking to school in the frosty golden mornings. It is the essence that fires a desire deep within for hot chocolate, and pumpkin pie, and warm sweaters.
Walking down the sidewalk, I am showered with the lemony-yellow leaves that are still gently falling from our pecan tree; my feet crackle through drifts of dry, crunchy leaves. The sky is clear, and brilliantly blue, and as the sun works it's way upward, it begins to share it's warmth. There are still autumn-shaded leaves on trees all over The Greater Metro, and as the wind picks up, it swirls upward through the branches, shaking out the reluctant stragglers and then tumbling them down the sidewalks and streets.
The daylight fades quickly now, but as a consolation prize we are awarded a spectacular sunset with high streaky clouds that reflect a thousand shades of crimson and gold. The navy blue night creeps in across the eastern horizon, and with it, the chill air comes again.
A perfect autumn day. A "Magic Day".
.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-.
08/07/06 was a "magic day" at our house. But not because of my little out-patient adventure. Look at the date - how could it not be a Magic Day? Earlier this year, we had 06/06/06. Then, before that was 04/05/06.
Next year, my birthday will fall on 07/07/07.
Sometimes, it's not the actual date that makes it Magical. Sometimes it's an event. Sometimes it's an anniversary. Or a birthday. Or a holiday.
Sometimes, it's just getting a good parking spot when you are shopping. Or a great haircut. Or a great sunset.
We try to find as many Magic Days as we can at our house.
.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-.
When my Dad was diagnosed with cancer, and we knew that he had little time left, we talked for hours. He told me things during those talks - precious things - that I still almost cannot bear to think about. But the theme that recurred over and over again was that The Wrench and I should not ever waste a day. That we should find something to celebrate every day. That the money, and the prestige, and the power - none of it mattered in the end. What mattered was the time you spent with the people you love. That's what your legacy is. That's what your loved ones will remember. And the lack of that time together is what you'll regret the most.
The Wrench and I took those lessons to heart. We quit worrying about acquiring wealth, and started by making each other a priority. Twinks was still a few years away, and we spent those years together, as husband and wife, as best friends, as partners. We looked for joy, and happiness wherever could. We celebrated life, our marriage, each other.
And we began our never-ending search for Magic Days. The rules for Magic Days are simple:
1. Find something - anything - about today that makes it special. (Need help? Check here.)
2. Celebrate!
Celebrating a Magic Day doesn't have to mean goofy party hats and candles on a cake. It can be as simple as doing something everyone enjoys together. Sitting outside on a warm day, and eating ice cream. Going for a drive in the country. Everyone piling on the couch and watching a family-favorite movie. Making popcorn, and watching old home movies. A shared smile. A warm hug. An unexpected kiss.
The point is not *how* you celebrate. It's that you do it *together* as a family.
Therein lies the Magic.
.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-.
So tell me: When was the last Magic Day at your house?
It started this morning when I took Twinks to school. We stepped out of the house, and the sweet, sharp cold air pushed the breath from our lungs, and filled us with that unmistakable smell of autumn. I remember that smell; it is the aroma of a thousand days spent walking to school in the frosty golden mornings. It is the essence that fires a desire deep within for hot chocolate, and pumpkin pie, and warm sweaters.
Walking down the sidewalk, I am showered with the lemony-yellow leaves that are still gently falling from our pecan tree; my feet crackle through drifts of dry, crunchy leaves. The sky is clear, and brilliantly blue, and as the sun works it's way upward, it begins to share it's warmth. There are still autumn-shaded leaves on trees all over The Greater Metro, and as the wind picks up, it swirls upward through the branches, shaking out the reluctant stragglers and then tumbling them down the sidewalks and streets.
The daylight fades quickly now, but as a consolation prize we are awarded a spectacular sunset with high streaky clouds that reflect a thousand shades of crimson and gold. The navy blue night creeps in across the eastern horizon, and with it, the chill air comes again.
A perfect autumn day. A "Magic Day".
.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-.
08/07/06 was a "magic day" at our house. But not because of my little out-patient adventure. Look at the date - how could it not be a Magic Day? Earlier this year, we had 06/06/06. Then, before that was 04/05/06.
Next year, my birthday will fall on 07/07/07.
Sometimes, it's not the actual date that makes it Magical. Sometimes it's an event. Sometimes it's an anniversary. Or a birthday. Or a holiday.
Sometimes, it's just getting a good parking spot when you are shopping. Or a great haircut. Or a great sunset.
We try to find as many Magic Days as we can at our house.
.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-.
When my Dad was diagnosed with cancer, and we knew that he had little time left, we talked for hours. He told me things during those talks - precious things - that I still almost cannot bear to think about. But the theme that recurred over and over again was that The Wrench and I should not ever waste a day. That we should find something to celebrate every day. That the money, and the prestige, and the power - none of it mattered in the end. What mattered was the time you spent with the people you love. That's what your legacy is. That's what your loved ones will remember. And the lack of that time together is what you'll regret the most.
The Wrench and I took those lessons to heart. We quit worrying about acquiring wealth, and started by making each other a priority. Twinks was still a few years away, and we spent those years together, as husband and wife, as best friends, as partners. We looked for joy, and happiness wherever could. We celebrated life, our marriage, each other.
And we began our never-ending search for Magic Days. The rules for Magic Days are simple:
1. Find something - anything - about today that makes it special. (Need help? Check here.)
2. Celebrate!
Celebrating a Magic Day doesn't have to mean goofy party hats and candles on a cake. It can be as simple as doing something everyone enjoys together. Sitting outside on a warm day, and eating ice cream. Going for a drive in the country. Everyone piling on the couch and watching a family-favorite movie. Making popcorn, and watching old home movies. A shared smile. A warm hug. An unexpected kiss.
The point is not *how* you celebrate. It's that you do it *together* as a family.
Therein lies the Magic.
.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-.
So tell me: When was the last Magic Day at your house?
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