Contrasts
This morning, Isabella, sleepy-headed at breakfast table, said, “Mama, it’s been so nice to be here at home for Christmas--I don’t want to leave for school.” In her little four years she, too, gets how absolutely lovely and wonderful sharing all this time together has been, and like her I have been hesitant to let it go. As I write, I steal glances at my Christmas tree, the mandate from my husband to take off the ornaments in the back of my head. I can’t do it just yet; I want to linger a bit in the loveliness of one of the best Christmases of my 42 years, to revel in the fresh memory of it so as years go on, I can access this feeling, this moment. Perhaps there will be even better moments to come, but this year will rank right up there, I think. As we drove to school, we discovered the pearlescent moon “following us,” as she said, joining us for the ride. And I found what I love about the ride: the textures of countryside in contrasts of color, the frost glistening in that ...