Thursday, 31 December 2009
It's symbolic I guess: a way of marking out the changes of the season and the journey from birth to death. A series of markers through which we can measure history and change.
It's been a funny old year. My son left home, my book club pal died and I teeter on the edge the menopause with bouts of melancholy and an occasional case of the screaming hab dabs. Coming to terms with ageing is no Christmas party. There are some compensations but boo-bloody-hoo!
Later, I will gather with the clan and dance and talk into the wee small hours, putting my melancholy to one side and enter the spirit of the celebrations.
One of the things that's been best about this Christmas, apart from the snow, has been lighting the big fat church candle I've had for ages. I used it in a display and it only burned for a little while. I finally got round to lighting it again this year and with the 'big light' off and the light from the lamps and the Christmas tree; watching the flickering flame has been lovely. My husband has been pretty good too!
Lights in the darkness.