I haven’t been writing things down. There are so many things I want to write, so many thoughts I’m trying to catch in the kitchen while the potatoes brown, so many ideas that come while I’m rocking the baby. They come and they leave, and I’m left standing in the kitchen as the skillet begins to smoke, wondering why my head feels emptied.
I know I won’t remember much about this busy, full season of diapers and balance bikes. I’ll remember the parts I wrote down, and the rest will be gone with the skillet smoke.
I’m learning that this is OK, that it’s good. That we can’t capsule our seasons and lives into pill form for later digesting. Memories, like pills, can heal. But sometimes they hurt going down.
Mostly, I just miss writing.
Our 2016 Christmas break in liner notes, then:
-Mulled wine from red solo cups
-Surprise caroling on a friend’s farm, white candles for Silent Night
-Wrapping tiny googly eyes for a toddler
-Lifetime Christmas movies and coconut oil popcorn
-A frenzied grocery run on Christmas Eve Eve, a last-minute Starbucks gift card for the upbeat cashier, a reminder that small acts of kindness bring big waves of happiness
-Sparkly lotions for nieces
-Saltines and 7Up for a New Years Eve flu
-Forgetting the words to A Little Town of Bethlehem, smiling when the nursing home residents love it all the same
-Bee visiting Santa’s house, the gift of a miniature Mr. Goodbar, the offering of her favorite goldfish in return, “for the reindeers, you know.”
-Plastic toy trains under dining room tables
-Smoked gouda for lunch
-Twinkly lights hanging in my mother-in-law’s garage
-Old puzzles with missing pieces
-A snowman ornament made from a tiny handprint and a loving Grandma
-Parsnip hash browns for breakfast, candied pecans for breakfast dessert
-Nerf wars in melting snow
Wishing you and yours a fresh start this year, smoked gouda and all.