I am grateful to the universe that the first day of 2011 was overcast and foggy, because it felt like cosmic permission for me to feel the same way. The boys went back to their Dad's house this morning and as I type my wonderful husband is in the air somewhere south of Georgia and north of Orlando. I have stumbled around in a fog most of today feeling overcast that all the trappings of the beautiful, magical celebration are waiting to be packed away until next year.
For me, the days before Christmas Eve are always filled with long nights, lists of details and a manic feeling of anticipation. And the days between Christmas and New Years are like pockets of time suspended in an exercise of indulgence. Day upon day spent eating, drinking and playing with family and friends. I exist in my cocoon of entitlement, having worked so hard in the days and weeks of the year mostly past. But on the first day of the New Year the credits begin to roll and I awaken to bills waiting to be paid, pounds waiting to be shed and clothes waiting to be laundered. The Christmas tree which just last night was a beacon of holiday light and family history, has in the morning dawn become a serious fire hazard waiting to be carted to the curb.
And so today, I am feeling overcast and foggy. Certainly grateful for a beautiful, abundant holiday and a truly amazing life...but overcast and foggy, nonetheless. I have lived long enough to know that when you are surrounded by fog, the best thing to do is Row Your Boat and Watch Out for The Icebergs. Undoubtedly, tomorrow will dawn, the sun will shine and the familiarity of responsibility and routine will bring me comfort. With every ounce of me I know that what I need to do most is get up off the couch and start...cleaning, packing, rearranging...the task itself is not nearly as important as just getting started. And that is the promise of my new year.
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