an emperor in winter

One year ago today, life was a little different. After coming off a lonely and early New Year's Eve, the kids and I waited. We watched and we waited for almost six weeks for Daddy to come home. He did, but just barely. And then all was followed by a long exhale and a February Christmas. My, what a flash forward it has been. If I had held a crystal ball and would have known that, once again, I'd share laughter around the tree with friends, see my girls set up a cookie tray for Santa with their father and sip bubbly with my family over a candlelit holiday meal...well, I might have ended up with a few less gray hairs and avoided those three new crows-feet beauties around my right peeper. Such are the joys and the pains of life, I guess. You don't know what's coming at ya, be glad you don't, and when it does..it is then you find out what you're made of. And I am absolutely certain of this- you find out just how much heart, sunshine and love surrounds you in your ordinary little life. And you never ever forget it.

I remember dragging our tinseled tree out back like a crazy woman and kicking it down the ravine. I remember the black quiet of all those nights, all 46 of 'em, and the crick I got in my neck as I watched my husband's chest, barely lifting with each tiny breath. Strangely enough, through all the outpouring of good, kindness and generosity from family, friends and even strangers..one of my deepest comforts was from Blockbuster. Yep, the big blue boy on the corner of Walnut and Vine. On the eve before the New Year, the children wanted to watch a movie and munch on popcorn and that is just what we did. Mama needed a salty distraction, even if it was only for an hour or so and that's when the three of us gals broke out a bottle of lemonade and went on our march with the penguins.

The tears quietly flowed as I listened to the velvet voice over of Morgan Freeman and I was profoundly moved by these amazing creatures..these weeble-wobbley flightless birds that swim like fish and dive like angels. Their strength and beauty..their story, I found truly inspirational. As I sat staring at the tube, with my tummy twisting from all that life was corkscrew pitching at me...the stark, white icy beauty of the Antarctic was like poetry at a time when I surely needed a stanza of it or two. It was quiet and fierce and magnificent. Some may find it odd, even chortle at a full grown woman finding a sort of salvation in this little being, but I did. Watching their struggles amidst a harsh environment and the unity and team player mentality of the colony just filled me, and in that time, I had a mentor of a sort. A four foot hero in a tux..the type of male who would sit on his old lady's egg for no less than four months, in temps of 75 below zero...keeping it warm, alive, just waiting for her special song (and a yummy regurgitated meal of silverfish). The only call of it's kind. The song that was theirs and theirs only. That stalwart, solid caliber of a guy was familiar to me. I was married to one down in the ICU. My kids and I watched thousands of these nifty creatures, band together, shoulder to shoulder, battling 190 mph winds, forming the intricate circling pattern..the special dance..that allowed time for all to have a chance to be in the warm center. Many in body, one in mind. Crossing miles and miles of frozen road..their resilience and determination..their can-do spirit was a perfect reflection of the power and vast potential that is innate within life itself. This small, yet majestic link in a grand chain that weaves itself through you and me..this crazy world and beyond. A symbol of faith and fight, proof positive that things can change, will change, and will always find the light in the darkest of darks. It is simply made that way. And it is up to us to plug ourselves into this mystical outlet, this absolute certainty..this profound truth and pulse of energy and watch the sparks fly.

It was through this beautiful black and white window..I looked, I learned and I listened, and for the first time in my life, I was able to grab my fear by the balls and choke it. My husband had his surgery the next day and successfully climbed one of the many Mt. Fugi's he would face on his long journey. It soon became serious again; however, as he started to fade shortly thereafter and that roller coaster continued until he finally pulled into the station and came back home to me.

Last year before the G. man got sick, my buddy, Tommy, who would be one of my rocks through it all, my medical consult and waiting room pal, my dear friend..so graciously volunteered to be a Santa to my girls. His beautiful beard was impeccably curled with love by his Mrs. Claus..his suit, the brightest and happiest of reds. On a cold evening, in his St. Nickiest of splendor, he visited..the peal of his sleigh bells emanating from our back deck, just a short four days before my husband would end up in the ER. I remember watching that video again not too long ago...how happy we all were. Cameras snapping and rolling..the delight and laughter of my baby girls. Little did we know that life would change on a dime. Just over a weekend, from martinis to mayhem..it would all suddenly be so very different. It wasn't the things, the this or the that of the season that made that one moment so special...just the tender golden joy on the faces of my girls when Santy handed them that candy cane. I will never forget it. And seeing G. smiling behind the video cam all seemingly healthy...well, we just never know, my friends, we just never know...

By the golden prayers of you and yours and all things good in the Universe, we were able to re-create that magic again this year, a couple of weeks before the holiday. And what a gift it was. Santa Thomas graced us with his jolly presence for a second time, dropping off a little somethin'-somethin' for the girlies...double checking to make sure he got their address change correctly before the Big Day. All those turns and fog can be challenging in a night's winter sky, you know. Once again, the visit was all things fab and seconds after he faded away into the darkness of the side yard, up in the black yonder, was a low-flying plane with..you guessed it...a blinking red light. Right there on her nosecone. My girls were slack jawed and G.'s eyes filled with tears. It was right then that I won that Power Ball I'd always wanted....like someone wrapped up every single thing in Tiffany's, times'd it by about a million..and then some. I hope your holidays were as special as ours and that your New Year unfolds all things glittered and sparkling for you and the ones you hold dear.

Happy, happy New Year, friends!

Our Christmas Story 2008
...and yes, I am well aware that my girls wore those red skirts to every single activity we did this season. Oy.