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December 21, 2005

in the bleak midwinter

"I never really believed in Santa Claus," says Herself to me; she is sitting on the armchair in front of the Christmas tree, feet swinging over the armrest. "I pretended I did because I thought you wanted me to."

When he was about six, Moo asked me did I believe Santa was real. I thought: Well, if he's asking he must have doubts. So I told him: Nope, Santa Claus is really Mommy and Daddy. Recently he reminded me of that conversation and said "I only asked because I wanted to know if you believed, not because I didn't! Thanks, Mom, for wrecking it for me."

Today is the shortest day of the year, the first day of winter. The leaves have finally taken off from their branches and cover my lawn in a brown carpet. The other morning when I was outside to get the paper I heard the crack and thud of a tree branch falling: the holly tree in the front yard is slowly breaking apart. I close my curtains at night against the cold although I fall asleep so fast I'd never feel the chill anyway, hurtling into unconsciousness like something or someone is waiting for me there.

On Sunday late afternoon I sat by the window and watched the tree lights as the sun went down and felt, just for an instant, the anticipation of Christmas being only a few days away. That feeling in the pit of my stomach. (Actually come to think of it, I have that feeling all the time, only now I know it's anxiety.) "I'm so excited about Christmas!" says Herself. She counts the days to me every morning and I think "Will I ever get my shopping done?"

Posted by JudyLa at 06:00 AM | Comments (0)