Now that holiday events are winding down and we have entered deep Christmas, those precious days before routines resume, I've had some time for reflecting. We've been able to take some time to hibernate (the -30 degree Celsius temperatures have certainly encouraged that hunkering down).
This Christmas was special because it was my daughter's first, which has filled me with joy and, unexpectedly, a lot of notalgia.
When I write non-fiction, I can often write my way into memory--one detail connects to another and suddenly a long forgotten scene opens up and I'm both remembering and reliving. That same thing has happened as I created rituals and traditions with my daughter leading up to Christmas. I would suddenly remember the pattern of a stocking or the feeling, like floating, as we drove home from my grandparents and rainbow-coloured lights burst through the iced-up windows. It's kind of a memory magic.
What a gift: this girl, this life I've been given.
I hope you have some time to enjoy these deep Christmas days.
