The rain started last night. It was loud on the roof, a sound I love. This morning the rain was light, almost misty at times, but had since gotten a bit heavier. It will be around most of the day. I was surprised when I let the dogs out at how warm it is, 50°. I do need dry dog food and dog biscuits, but I haven’t decided whether to go today or tomorrow.

When I was a kid, the tree was lit every night after Christmas through New Year’s. The smell of pine filled all of downstairs, but I knew, after New Year’s Day, the tree was doomed, destined for the trash heap. My mother thoughtfully waited until we were back in school before she undressed the tree, before she took down the ornaments and lights. It was a shock to come home to an unlit, undecorated tree standing against the wall. I remember how dark the living room looked and how naked the corner was after my father unceremoniously dumped the tree in the trash outside. I have a picture in my head of the first trash day of the new year. Trees leaned on trash cans up and down the street. Icicles blew in the wind. I felt sad.

Growing up, I never understood the hype around the new year. For me, it was the last day of vacation, not a day to celebrated. Once back in school, I had to remember to put the new year’s date on my papers. It took a few days to shake off the old year.

I don’t celebrate the new year now. I sort of just let it happen. I’ll turn a year older. My head won’t notice but my body will. I used to haul in 50 pounds of cat litter. Now I drag in 20 pounds. I always think I can do what I used to do but I can’t, but that’s okay. I get another year of trying.

It rained during the night. Today is cloudy and dark, but it is warm, mid 50’s. I have no choice but to go out. The larder is empty, no bread, no cream, no cheese, nothing. I need to shop. It is dump day, finally. I have a few more things to load into the trunk. One is a box of litter from Jack’s room upstairs. It is heavy so I take it downstairs one step at a time. Today I miscalculated. I thought I was at the bottom of the stairs but was three steps away. I stepped down on nothing and hit the deck. I cut my hand. It was not an auspicious start to the day.

When I was a kid, I loved my Christmas pajamas. They were usually two piece flannel with a top and bottom. I also loved my new slippers. The tops were wool and the bottoms leather. I always felt cozy. I love cozy. It has become my lifestyle.

I loved the new books I got every Christmas. I remember the year of Little Women. Once I started it, I couldn’t stop reading. I loved Jo the best. She was fearless and outspoken. She was always a bit messy with her skirt askew. I could see myself as Jo. This Christmas, as with every Christmas in my memories, I got a new book. It is from my sister who continues the tradition. It is the new Patricia Cornwell. A perfect choice.

We always hoped for snow and ice for the week after Christmas. That meant sledding and ice skating. We lived in a perfect sledding spot, close to the top of a long hill. We’d pull our sleds to the top, jump on and whiz down the hill. At the bottom of the hill was a road and a fast ride down sometimes had our sleds crossing the road into the field. Any kid already at the bottom would watch for cars. We’d drag our sleds back up the hill for another run. We’d be at it all day until the sled rope had a layer of ice, our mittens were soaked, and we were cold. We’d go into the house through the cellar where we’d leave all our wet clothes. The sled was left upright in a pile of snow. My mother made us cocoa with a dollop of marshmallow. I’d let the marshmallow melt across the whole top of the cocoa before I drank it. I always got a marshmallow mustache.