A Gentler Waiting

Daylight is slowly changing the window to a pale grey. There is a cold fog looming which seems to dampen the usual noise of morning. Even the garbage trucks an hour ago seemed muted. I had a long sleepless night, finally catching some rest between 3 and 5. Then I was awake. A cup of coffee and then I started dicing the bacon for my clam chowder base, then the onion, followed by the mushrooms. We always have clam chowder on Christmas Eve, though I do not add the oysters that Lydia’s mom included. It is in fact Christmas Eve 2020. It has been a horrific year and it is winding down.

I have kept busy this week with preparing the rice stuffing for the goose, baking the Christmas cake, making cranberry sauce, planning phone calls to kids and grandkids, keeping busy, keeping busy. This will be the first Christmas that we will be alone for the holiday. (We have a day or two left of quarantine. Josh and his new family are just across town and I suppose we could fudge a day or so on the quarantine but, we don’t want to chance passing an infection. Besides, he and Darci need to build their own traditions this first year.)

Finishing the roue, I added the clam broth and milk. I lugged the gunny sack of potatoes I’d harvested a few weeks ago in from the garage, where the bag hangs (no root cellars in suburbia) and selected a few to scrub and dice. That done, the chowder will simmer all day while we nibble on carrots, stuffed celery, crackers, and a cheese ball. We’ll play music all day, though we have in fact have had constant music for several weeks, only pausing for my practice sessions, which in fact is music of a kind also. Later I will make some fresh rolls to have with the chowder. The day’s work is done already, mostly, other than a few dishes to wash. It will be an easy day, a gentle wait for evening.

In previous years, our conversations would have included references to Santa’s approach, early bedtimes, hanging stockings. We don’t have that this year. So we build a nest as best we can with music, and food, and our family traditions, sheltering for a while, from the craziness outside.

I hear Lydia waking up.

Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays, whichever you choose.

Be Well.

Blessings.

Posts