...welcome, december...

 Oh, December, how I've needed you!

I watched the glow of numbers on the clock beside my bed last night, waiting for them to turn autumn into a memory.  A sigh of relief as midnight swept the slate clean.  I settled, and drifted off.

Henri fretted early, burrowing into me as he grumbled awake. We quietly rearranged, sitting up and wrapping ourselves cozy in the blanket, to watch the view out the window as we do every morning before everyone else wakes up.  Henri is a big fan of the sky show.  His eyes light up, reflecting the sparks on the horizon, and he positively buzzes with excitement as the sunrise flares up.  When the light finally reaches the branches outside our window, he burbles his delight. 

Yesterday, the sun never rose.
We watched, in dissatisfaction as the sky just slowly shifted from black to gray.

Yesterday was fall.

Today, though...

Today is December.

I've been waiting for December.

Waiting for a fresh calendar page, and the promise of fresh-fallen snow it will likely bring

Waiting for the holly, and the jolly that we find in our holiday rituals.

Waiting to swap out Paw Patrol and Curious George books for stories older and deeper, rich with reminders of how loved we are. 

I've kept my head down through all that fall threw at me (down, and ducked, trying to avoid it) and held onto the hope that December was on the way.

Here it is.

And just like the sky this morning, everything feels lighter.

It's bright, with the promise of family traditions and memories to build on.

It's comforting, with familiar spices and flavors.

It's full of surprises and sweets, from treasured decorations tucked away from toddler fingers, to secret elfkin messages on teeny tiny scrolls in the advent calenders...leading my boys on treasure hunts.

It's full of quiet moments, with cocoa or a cookie, basking in the glow of the tree or marveling at the snowflakes as they tumble down.

It's full of music, carols and chorales, and if I'm lucky as in years passed...a cello picking out my favorites as I sing along.

It's cold outside and warm inside.

It's hot ovens and piping kettles and cozy blankets as we watch old classics and Dr. Who.

December, somehow, makes these walls home.