Turning over the calendar page today brought me to my psychological knees, so to speak. How could the year already be over? I think of those movies that depict the passage of time by a calendar flipping ahead in a breeze blowing through the window . . . I need to run to catch up with the days, weeks, months.
It wasn’t that long ago that December seemed roomier, with plenty of space to pack whatever it needed it to contain. Now it feels like the size of a carryon bag.
At least December brings the end to the decline of light. In just a few weeks we can look up from the depth of darkness to detect our ever-so-subtle ascent into light. Anticipating more daylight as the days lengthen makes me happy. At our house, the dark and dreary days seem intensified by the Doug firs that stand guard around it. Perhaps it is a small price to pay for their blissful protection from the heat in summer, but they can be overbearing this time of year. There’s much to be said for the lacy light-leaking capacity of deciduous trees.
Rejoice, I tell myself. This is a happy month. And so it is, this December of 2009—as long as it sticks around for awhile . . . and slows down.