The morning feels warm at 33°. The sun is bright, and the blue sky is cloudless. The snow is crusty. It crunched under my feet when I made my way to the car. I finally cleared off the car’s windows and roof. Because I have no scraper, I used a dustpan. It worked better than a scraper as it also cleared the chunks of snow I scraped. The car is ready to go.

Yesterday I made a batch of cookies, chocolate chip cookies to give away. I, of course, had to taste them. They were so good I even had a couple for breakfast. Today I’ll make another batch, peanut butter cookies, then I’ll wrap up the gifts for my friends. The counter is filled with all the finished food gifts and the Christmas bags and wrappings. Once the peanut butter cookies are done I’ll wrap everything.

One year when I was in the seventh or eighth grade, I got an outfit for Christmas. It was a skirt, a white sweater and a gold medallion on a thick chain. Right away I tried it on. It fit perfectly. I decided I would wear it to mass, but it was too early to go to church so I went back to bed and didn’t even change. When I woke up, it was still morning dark, and I was already dressed so I knew I could make the first mass of the morning. That was my favorite Christmas morning walk. I saw no cars or other people. The only sound was the clicking of my shoes on the sidewalk. The morning felt solemn. Some houses were well lit while others were still dark. People were sleeping. I guessed they must be old people. The church was dimly lit. Only a few old ladies sat on the pews in front of the side altar. The priest was by himself, no altar boys. The mass was quick. My walk home was in the sunlight.

Another Christmas, when I was in high school, I got the best gift. It was when I was well beyond the toys for Christmas age, the age when I wanted clothes and books and records. I remember the Christmas when I got the best outfit, the one everyone was wearing. I got a pair of stirrup black stretchy pants, ski pants thought I never skied. I got a bright pink angora sweater. It was fluffy. I also got a ski parka with a zippered front pocket. It had a cord hemmed around the bottom. My mother had outdone herself. She had found the perfect gifts. I couldn’t wait to wear my outfit. I wanted everyone to see.

I would not describe the world as a winter wonderland. It is cold and breezy, only 21°. The snow has crusted. Walking on it makes a crunchy sound. I tried to clear my car but didn’t do well. All my scrapers were left in the crashed car. My broom, my alternate tool, got some of the snow off the car, but a layer of really crusty snow still stays on the windows and needs to be scraped. I was hoping the day would be warmer so the sun would melt the window snow, but it isn’t so I am housebound for the meantime. I missed a concert yesterday and will miss one again today. I’ll figure something out.

When I was a kid, on days like today, I’d be really cold walking home from school. I’d run to my bedroom, take off my school clothes and get into my cozies. That’s when it all started, my love for being cozy. I’d jump, well, not literally but poetically, into bed and snuggle under the covers until I was warm. Sometimes I’d get drowsy and fall asleep. It was the best sort of nap.

The dogs are napping beside each other on the couch. Nala is leaning against me. Henry is curled into a ball. Both are deeply asleep. I aspire to nap like my dogs.

From the time I was little, I knew Christmas magic. It was all around me. Colored lights on bushes and houses shined brightly through the deep winter darkness. The house smelled of pine and cookies baking. Wrapped presents under the tree lent mystery to Christmas though the new pajamas for Christmas Eve were easy to identify. They were always the presents we could open on Christmas Eve. We wanted to pick a different one, but we never won that argument. We’d squeeze and shake the other presents but usually couldn’t figure them out. My sister Moe was adept at making small holes in the presents and figuring out what they were. She made holes in all the presents. I used to love sitting in the living room with only the tree lights, the window lights and the flickering TV screen lit. The tree was the brightest of them all.