On the Eve

It was cold as we rode home through the streets of Santa Rosa earlier this evening, and I was trying to keep that end-of-day wistfulness at bay. Brown leaves piled up on sidewalks, and persimmons bright as jack-o-lanterns hung in branchy trees.

I double wrapped my scarf around my neck and pedaled harder to keep up with Monte and Chris. There's been a shadow and a sorrow in the background, but I decided I must push all sad thoughts from my mind.

In the family I grew up in, we never learned the art of happiness. Does it come to you like a blessing? Maybe you have to grab it, and fight for it. Maybe completely invent it?

And I always felt faraway from someplace I was supposed to be. I lived like an exile, making calls from pay phones, missing the ones who mattered most. Eventually I met Monte and we formed a little family of our own.

I do wish our daughter were here with us tonight. And I wish that things were better for others that I care about. But we have brought ourselves to the house of dear old friends, and we feel welcome here. The kitchen walls are gold, and on the fridge are pictures of people I recognize...including myself as I was long ago. There are cooking smells and music and dogs. Egg nog has been offered. I can never say no to egg nog.

It's Christmas Eve.

Peace.