Lately I’ve been feeling behind, like I’m chasing something just out of my grasp. A lot of it is COVID and the strange twilight we are all living in that isn’t just time change, political change, or fall – not of the patriarchy this time, autumn. Life is missing the creature comforts of connection, a good friend’s laugh, the simple pleasure of sending your children out into the yard to play and trusting they will be safe, are all riddled with guilt and implications. Our lives are also lacking something to look forward to, the promise of a new and better day.
And that is what is out of my grasp; groundedness, faith, trust, and balance. I’m not rushing to be anywhere and yet feel the ticking of time. Have we quarantined for 14 days? When was our last trip to the store?
This space is intended to create room and reserve attention for peace, hopefulness, and growth. It is designed to be light and optimistic but sitting by the window looking out at naked trees and a grey rainy day I am reminded that dark days and rest are a necessary part of life. For spring to come and flowers to bloom, there must be time to nourish and be at rest. There must be time for rain and cold and stillness. And that is the meaning I’ve been seeking.
This Thanksgiving will be a holiday unlike any I have spent before. From childhood it has been a day of long drives and the refrain, “You can get anything you want, excepting Alice, at Alice’s Restaurant,” inexplicably playing on the car radio annually despite my never hearing this song any other time of year or in any other place. It is a time for crowded tables, family gossip, and dinner twice in one day – usually.
Tomorrow will begin a new tradition something quieter, a day of stillness instead of movement. A day of familiar songs, maybe Pandora will find Alice’s Restaurant magically tomorrow too, I’ll put on a Thanksgiving playlist and see what happens. Instead of chasing after anything or anyone just beyond my grasp, I will be holding dear the people in my family unit and truly listen to their words, the pillars of my home and my life celebrated exactly where I always find them, surrounding our dinner table.