I know. I KNOW!
You all have the vapors now, right?
I mean, it's practically a nativity scene right there with Baby Jesus in the little carriage and the rocking horse taking the place of the peaceful donkey.
After I figured out that I could indeed pick up that tree and carry it into the house myself I had a pretty good time decorating it. I have the very few ornaments I need in one bag these days, and the little tree requires only one string of lights although I will say that it's rather amazing how much it's grown in the years since I bought it and put it on the hallway altar as my Christmas tree.
That's a little birchbark canoe that Mr. Moon made when he was in Boy Scouts with a very old Chinese couple whom I set in it and then perch in the branches to help us sail into the new year safely. Although this is completely my own ritual it brings me satisfaction.
There are ornaments that the children made over the years and there is a baby ballet slipper and there are a few small vintage glass balls.
I suppose I can admit that this all represents a bit of magic to me as does my probably forty-year old Nativity scene that I bought one single-mama Christmas at a department store which no longer exists.
Hank set the Buddha behind the baby one year and since then, the little grinning fat man has always found his way to stand behind the manger, proclaiming with great joy and assurance that we are ALL the baby Jesus, all holy, all a part of the big lit electrical gestalt of it all, just as the donkey, the cow, Joseph, the shepherds, the wise men, even the gold, the frankincense, the myrrh and the hay lining the manger are.
It is a sweet story, this tale of a baby born in a barn. Of course in my mind I add the scent of animal dung, a mother's blood, and amniotic fluid, the presence of a midwife and her assistant, the news of the baby born to a near-child and her older husband causing the women in the neighborhood to bring food and drink for the exhausted mother, clean cloths and hand-me-down clothes for the newly born infant.
And that is how I've given the story my own perception of magic. The sights and sounds and smells and pain and eventual joy of human birth.
There was so much I was going to do today. Wrap presents and finish Magnolia's nightgown, mainly. But instead I just did that little bit of Christmasing and took the trash and went to the post office and cleaned the poopy nests in the hen house. I washed the sheets and hung them on the line and made up the bed with the sundried sheets. I baked a loaf of bread.
And took a nap.
Tomorrow is the solstice. Perhaps I'll make cookie dough and see if any children want to come and help bake and decorate cookies on Sunday.
I am certainly not filled with what we might call the Christmas Spirit, whatever the fuck that is, but at least I am not filled with resentment or pain. Not tonight.
There is light in the darkness. And oh!
Let us not forget- Bad Mean Santa, keeping watch over the babe at night.
And in the daytime too.
Happy Friday, y'all.