the hustle of the holidays is upon us. i feel the urgent press of time, the need to list, to divide, to delegate. my housekeeping spreadsheet no longer feels like the wooden framework of a dwellng, now it feels like the steel that spans and creates otherwise impossible structures. i have all my tools at hand - my calendars, my lists, my holiday journal from last year.
i happened to glance outside my window and i noticed first how absolutely still the morning is. a paper-thin sheet of ice cracks the surface of both ponds, the trees outside my window are winter-bare at last. not even a crow cries distantly, despite the pale pink sun. from the window, the sky looked sullen, leaden gray, but at the top of the driveway i saw a golden burst of blazing blue. the air is cold, and very calm.
i love you, mommy, said libby as she hurried out of the car.
what matters today is not how much i do or how much i get done. what matters today are the promises i make and keep, the connections that i spin and weave. what matters today are not the tasks i complete, but the people for whom i do them.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.