Glitter and Gold

Bing Crosby Holiday station is playing on my Pandora. It is November 9th. I'm sitting on the floor trying to finish making a circle rag rug from old bed sheets for my kitchen. Just my working crochet hands, and Christmas music,...and my thoughts.

I take a break to type up this years Christmas wish list. Four things.

I think the last time I was this excited for Christmas was when I still believed in Santa Clause! It's a feel-good time. I get to be with my family in the comfort of a warm home with good smells and great food. Plus, the kid in me comes to the surface. It's still magical. It's a romantic time of the year. There's just something about Christmas that brings hope and wonder. The promise of a miracle. So I listen to Christmas music...because it makes me happy. I've never listened to it this early in the year before. :)

Last Christmas was the worst...ever. Doctor appointments everyday of the week...then I spent the whole day laying sick on the bathroom floor. It was more comfortable there. I think I only just made it through opening presents, laying on the couch, barely able to sit up because of my stomach cramps...before the bathroom floor became my haven.

Music and smells.

Bring back memories.

Vanilla Lace...

the Victoria Secret lotion.

My mother's white dress that she had worn to homecoming...the one she let me wear that night and curled my hair clipped with bobby pins...strands falling rebelliously to my shoulders.

Dim pavilion lights, cool autumn dusk, and the live band.

An Usher's Ferry Civil War Reenactment Ball.

Soldiers still in uniform from the battle earlier that day.

and I was Jane Bennett, and Mr. Bingley asked me to dance a second time

I was a Freshman in high school, giddy and naive...but the feelings and thrill were so raw.

Today I can still smell the vanilla mixed with bonfire musk lingering on that dress

...oh it takes me back.

Back to the dances. Where boys were urged to be gentlemen and girls were told not to turn them down.

I loved every minute.

A smile brushes my lips as I remember, and then that familiar longing...to dance. To be asked. 

"What would you recommend, to encourage affection", Mr. Darcy asked.

"Dancing. Even only if one's partner is barely tolerable" she jabbed.

Yet I am sitting in a lonely place, no dances available for me.

Holly and the Ivy plays
And I suddenly wish I could play it on my flute. A pang of sadness and guilt. I put the instrument away...what, two years ago? I haven't played since.

This morning I stumbled upon Audrey Assad's blog article: On Journaling
I reflect again on my own middle school and high school years. In middle school I doodled and read books nonstop. I created my own Middle Earth-esque worlds. I drew self-portraits where I made myself into elves and I dreamed of romantic first encounters. I wrote poetry and even some songs. My creativity soared!
Then high school hit and I met real boys and suddenly I wasn't concerned about an imaginary wonderworld anymore...no I wanted to improve my own. That's the moment that I stopped reading. I stopped the doodles of beautiful maidens in dresses with sleeves that hung to the floor. I stopped dreaming of magical things and instead starting thinking of what was wrong with my own life: no boyfriend....and dreaming of how that could change. There was no need to change my imaginary world...but suddenly, when focusing on this life, I started dwelling more on everything that is wrong with it.
I've noticed that ever since then, I haven't been truly happy. But there are moments. Especially during summer breaks or little escapes...when I open a book or journal for awhile or crack the crusty lid off the neglected paint...that I experience it once again, however brief.

So I listen to Christmas music

and think about long ago shopping Saturdays with my mom, Christmas music playing on the radio, and the dreary December days were bubbly and glorious.

When I was little I remember even moving my toys into a little house under the Christmas tree once. They could live in the magic. Just like I wanted to do. If you could live in it...the joy would never end.

I want the smell of cinnamon and sugar cookies.

I want tinsel and glitter and twinkling lights and silver bells.

When did I start hating glitter so much?

So I sleep in and wear pj's all day. I make sweet potato chips and cut my finger badly in the process. I watch the Master Chef Junior finale...and make a gourmet pizza with the last of Danny's heirloom tomatoes. Pumpkin Spice candle burning. Rag Rug almost finished. I paint my fingernails...something I never do. Something shifts in a woman when her hands look pretty. I've always like my small dainty hands...but I haven't been taking good care of them lately.
And my Saturday is already approaching evening. But I still have Christmas music playing warm and welcoming.

And I am Maria...thinking about my favorite things, and then I don't feel so bad.