gifts and snow

I long to be well. Seven days ago, surgery started one aspect of my health on toward better things. I also began new medications to help the rest of my body mend, heal, behave. My adjustments have been slower than I like, but those who know me best are as unsurprised by my impatience to heal as they are my demands that they cut themselves slack.

Outside my window tonight is a blanket of snow the neighbor boys have left untouched. The snowman in their front yard has fallen. I would have explained that because of the way he was leaning the snowman they had named Skylar, no doubt after the class bully given their dialogue with the inanimate one once he was complete, had no chance of surviving winds. I would have, had I been awake enough to do so. Without my warning, Skylar met a windy end several days ago, and has since been used as the front of a bunker in a snowball fight no less than twice. The kids across the street from my neighbors are merciless, and have yet to lose.

My holiday preparations are ongoing. I would normally be long-done by now, but this is not a normal season of celebration. I would express annoyance with this circumstance. I cannot, though, as my heart is not in it. My heart is far more engaged in flights of ridiculous fancy. Imagining singing carols with Giggles and her family, then a snowball free-for-all in the front yard. Watching, "Christmas in Connecticut" with K Swiss while baking incessantly, because that's logically what happens. Also, Bailey's and hot chocolate happens in that instance. A lot. Wishing that the silvery dress I fell in love with two weeks ago was in a bag, waiting for me to slip it on and be able to dance (dance!) with old friends in a familiar old town on New Year's Eve, ideally to Sinatra or Martin.

I don't go out much right now; a false move or an attempt to save myself in a fall would likely cause damage I wince to imagine. Soon enough, I'll journey beyond these walls to do my job, and to send off packages filled with the things I'm making. I'll continue to sew, and bake, and piece together dreams. The snow yawning across the expanse between unfenced yards reminds me so much of days past, and such promise for days to come; the daydreams fill each gift I make with hope and promise, and love better given in person but given just the same.