Today is becoming a pretty day. The early morning clouds are giving way to the sun and a bit of blue sky here and there. It is 40˚and will get even warmer, 45˚. It is too warm for December. Last night was cold and still. The air was wonderfully clear, and I could see the stars. Today I’ll see the sun.

I celebrate each solstice, but the winter solstice, today, is my favorite. When I was a kid, I was taught it was the shortest day of the year. Later, I learned it was also the longest night of the year, a bit eerier than the shortest day. Long nights are iffy. Some people I have known find nights long and sometimes unnerving. I really like the nights when everything is quiet and almost all the houses are dark. When I worked, I was forced to go to bed early as 5:15 was wake up time. Now I am up later into the night.

I love the Christmas lights shining around houses and bushes. I can have a mini-light ride just in my neighborhood. Usually I’m the only car on the road.

I watched another Christmas Carol film, the one with Reginald Owen my second favorite from the early years. This one is from 1938. I always thought the ghost of Marley looked exactly like a ghost should. The other ghosts looked liked people with magic powers, favorite sorts of reading subjects of mine when I was a kid. Touching the robes of the ghosts to move in time looked real to me. The sprinkling from the horn with the Spirit of Christmas Cheer by the Ghost of Christmas Present was the best. The light spread Christmas, some peace and joy. We saw toasts to Scrooge by the Cratchits and Scrooge’s nephew Fred, lovers of the season, not so much of Mr. Scrooge, but it was the final ghost, the dark ghost, the Ghost of Christmas Future, who turned Scrooge, scared him into understanding what his future would be if he didn’t change, didn’t celebrate Christmas with everyone. This version has my favorite Scrooge, the final Scrooge, an amazing giver. His smile beamed.

This is the time of year when memories seem to pop into my head. I still remember where the Christmas trees were in each house where we lived from the first time I remember, when I was around three or four, until the last time, six months before I was leaving for Ghana. After I came home, I’d visit my parents at Christmas, and I’d help my mother finish decorating the tree. One year and every year thereafter I was in charge of lights, an onerous task. It took a while and some new sets of lights to get the whole tree lit, but it was always beautiful, always in the same spot. My mother made Christmas grand.

This is a later morning than the last few. My mother would have said I must have been tired and needed the sleep. The dogs, Nala in particular, woke me up. She was crying at me. I dragged myself out of bed with thoughts of coffee and quiet dogs. I’m on my second cup and Nala is outside in the yard with Henry. He came in the dog door this morning, but I had to let him in later. Small steps, Henry. Small steps.

Today is another dreary, dark day, but not a rainy day. It is only 34˚, winter weather. I do have a box to mail, but I think it will not be today. I have around the house stuff to do. I have already given the kitchen floor a quick wash before the deep wash. It wasn’t mud on the floor this morning. Yuck!

On the last day of school before Christmas we usually had a party. Each of us had to bring something to share like cookies or chips or even a cake, and the goodie table was filled, mouth-droppingly filled. The nuns were believers in order through lines, endless lines, so it was the same for the party. We went up to the goodie table, aka the nun’s desk, one row at a time and put goodies on our plates then went back to our seats. We could talk and even more around the room so it really was a party.

My mother teased us about our presents. She was quite good at telling us nothing and driving us crazy. She teased us even when we were adults. She’d shake presents and give useless hints. One year I helped her wrap. She’d hand me a box. I’d wrap it then tag it. She’d give me the name. A few times it was mine. She thought that was pretty funny.

When I was a kid, this was the week of expectations. The closer we got to Christmas Eve the more excited we all were. I had made a list for Santa and circled the toys I wanted in the Sears catalog so I figured I was covered, but I only had guesses. I knew they’d be a new board game and some books, every year presents, but that was it. I didn’t even count the new pajamas and slippers we’d open Christmas Eve, just means to the end, to looking good for morning pictures.

I never noticed clouds the week before Christmas.