Sister (in-law No. 2) loves the Santa Fe Aspen Ballet Nutcracker: “It’s not Christmas without it.” So we were gifted tickets too. Lucky us.
Santa Fe looks like a Christmas postcard, the annoying Invaders are not easily visible this time. Perhaps that’s why. Who knows?
Sister (in-law No. 1) keeps making Fresh pomegranate juice, the rosy froth satisfies nostalgia of Lahore, a city that no longer exists, another time. The last glass was with my aunt in 2002, when she was still alive. She loved to love, just like me. She couldn’t be free unlike me who continues to fly. Sometimes it’s Living that kills, not Death.
Piñon nuts from brother (in-law No. 2), handpicked from all over Pecos, New Mexico keep crackling in California. The delicious middle pops imperfectly.
Yoga with my brother Z is an energy exchange; align and don’t define. His intuition is outstanding.
My other brother makes fun of me for being out of breath on a small and short hike in Santa Clarita but gives me olives to warm up.
Small gifts exchanged offer big feelings.
My brother (in-law No. 1) makes such wonderful coffee. Keep it coming!
There is no gift like sharing a blanket on a couch with my sister as I reach to hug my mother, to take in that scent that can only belong to a mother.
My father’s knowledge is a sky that makes sense without a meteorologist’s interpretations.
My mother-in-law’s faith needs no translation.
The world has been falling apart for some time now. Hard to get real news anymore. That’s news that doesn’t get old. I hope it never does.
Yet we love as if we are stars that will never burn out.
Or at least we should.
Having Jamie near makes everything just right.
We can always celebrate love.
Happy Winter Solstice.
“Snow flakes. (45)” by Emily Dickinson
I counted till they danced so
Their slippers leaped the town –
And then I took a pencil
To note the rebels down –
And then they grew so jolly
I did resign the prig –
And ten of my once stately toes
Are marshalled for a jig!