Monday, December 19, 2016



'Tis the season to be jolly.
But I have a secret:
 At Christmastime I cry.
A lot.

Not big sobbing boo-hoos,
but the eyes brimming,
heart-squeezing, silent
tears that slide from the
corners of my eyes when
I am moved.

What, you ask, could cause
crying at Christmastime?

It's little things, and
big things, old things and
new things.

Singing those timeless carols
for the first time each year,
 my voice joining others as
the tunes float above us
to the rafters. A tear.

Unwrapping ornaments that hold
such dear memories of a time, 
a place or a person. 
Another tear.

Have Yourself a Merry 
Little Christmas always brings
a tear, especially:

Through the years we all will
be together, if the fates

Because of course, at some
point, they don't allow.

I miss toasting Christmas
with my Gigi, who adored
this festive season, as well
as many other beautiful souls
who used to savor it with us.

Naturally, that's life. It's
like a train that you share
with other passengers for part
of your trip; eventually they
get off and others hop on.

The others make me smile. New
companions on this life train,
bringing joy to our journey.

But I am always a bit wistful
when I remember the love,
stories and camaraderie I
enjoyed with those who have
already left the train.

Our minister says we feel
things more keenly at
Christmastime....the joys
are deeper, as are the

Treat yourself gently.

A dear friend once told me
that when she felt holiday 
sadness creep in, she'd 
cope by taking a deep breath
and counting her blessings.

And so this is what I do, too,
and I find that the taste of
sadness gives way to 

I think about my warm, snug
home, people under its roof who
love me, laughter and smiles
from holidays past....and 
those yet to come.

The train continues on its
journey.  Someday it will be
my turn to disembark and make
room for others, but until
then I am determined to enjoy
the view that is this
Christmas, right here,
right now.

Thank you from the bottom 
of my heart for sharing
the ride.


{All pics mine, except
for the snow angel, taken
by my sister-in-law.}