The blue-grey light returned on Boxing Day, along with snow, sleet, rain, cold. I felt like I was back in central New York. I burned Nag Champa and played 80’s music in our warm kitchen. John fried cold slabs of leftover grits in the cast iron skillet, and I ate two of them with butter and my most favorite-est thing ever, Sriracha.
Month: December 2012
christmas day 2012
Pre-dawn whispers (I stuffed my head under a pillow and went back to sleep).
Presents opened before the eight o’clock hour.
Hot coffee from the Chemex.
Sweet, soft challah French toast eaten continental style by a bad piggie.
Organic, fresh-pressed juice to cut through the sweet.
Beautiful music streaming through the house.
Gentle, quiet focus on a new art.
christmas eve 2012
For the first time, my girl helped braid the challah, her small fingers gently moving the ropes and curling in ends. We used the knife as a chisel and popped chunks of Callebaut in our mouths while we worked.
The challah baked up quick. We left the hot loaf to cool on a wire rack and drove to church, where I sat on the edge of my seat as our pastor hit all the high notes in O Holy Night. Once home I sat in my bent wood chair under my mother’s cable-knit afghan and stared at the lights on the tree.