Christmas. We wait for it. Count days. Eat advent chocolate.
I wish you could catch it. Just grab a piece and preserve it - form it into something beautiful - but it's just too fast.
I'm watching hours fly in a blur and the bustle of shopping and the lines at Walmart and the discussion of the perfect decor atop the Jesus birthday cake and the baking and the wrapping and reading the Grinch fourteen times and the school concerts and the church production and the papermacheing set-pieces in the kitchen and the 'yes, we're still having staff meeting on Wednesday' and the 'why does Zander get the biggest present?' and 'can we open them now...can we, please...PLEASE???' and the eggnog and the forgetting to buy cream cheese and no time to write and nights are too short and how on earth can a family of five fill the laundry hamper in one stinking day?...
"Mommy, what do you want for Christmas?"
"Oh, not much...I'd like to sleep until 10:10, wake up to a knock on the door which is the delivery of a perfect cup of coffee and then I'd like to sit on the deck and drink it while Harry Connick Jr. plays Winter Wonderland on a grand piano in the snow."
"I don't think you're getting that."
Yeah, I don't think so either.
As much as I yearn for stillness a part of me loves the chaos because in it all there's just enough time to build memories and laugh together. It's no Harry Connick Jr. but I'll bet he doesn't smell like gingerbread!