Just awoke from a 2 hour nap, the best kind, in bed and under the covers, fully clothed and with ribbons of sun burning through the blinds on a cold Colorado day. My toenails are the color of red in a candy cane, so perfectly shiny and glossy objects reflect in them. I would say I treated myself to a mani-pedi after a morning workout and soy latte but I treat myself often. And well. Now.
Tonight I’ll sit by a sparkling tree, adorned with sentimental ornaments collected over the years and wrap the few presents I've purchased while enjoying a glass of Bridlewood Shiraz, the surprisingly plum-ey and warm red suggested by the FLA niece. Monday is lunch with the CO niece.
Angels those two. There's no other word. Young women with old, beautiful souls, they picked me up and kept me close through the madness and isolation, when no one else with similiar DNA did. I’d like to think some of that compassion was learned from an Aunt.
No mad, bustling trips to the mall this weekend, no full-throttle family drama and servings of familiar passive aggression next week. Just a simple, peaceful, centered and authentic few days. This year I opened the gift to really seeing, then really believing, that I’m not damaged or marginal and absolutely worthy of joy and respect, unconditionally and with no-strings attached. Next year more love will be under my tree, in a big, big box wrapped in a bow. I have a stocking full now.
New Year’s Eve, however, I’m going crazy. The activities one partakes in while passing from one year to the next shapes the following twelve months. I hope I’m in bed, heels still on, most of the lip gloss off and happily dizzily from champagne.
Wide awake in anticipation.