December began with a flutter of promise. The twinkle of lights there in the corner of your eye as you’re busy racing to finish all your everyday things. The tree that you brought inside, the to-do lists that now include candy canes, make-believe snow and so much cinnamon and sugar.
Making the house as bright and inviting as a lighthouse in the darkness of winter.
December was also a time to climb back into The Book. Thanks to Pitch Wars and my incredible mentor Jaye. These new edits felt heavy in my hands, but once spilled over the page they snapped the pieces together like my son’s Legos. The whole of it made me sit back in awe of the bones. The stretching and breathing that was happening in this story born from my head. Fueled by caffeine, good, local beer and those thoughtful notes I spent the month in an orange grove dragging it out of my cave as it burst into life.
December didn’t skimp on the sunshine. The beauty of Florida is though we may melt beneath a relentless summer sun, come winter we’re gifted with soft, gold light and cool breezes. We step out from beneath the shade and glory in big, blue skies.
And then comes a biting cold front and we have no idea what to do with ourselves.
December also means surprises and magic in the mail. Like this glorious shirt from my Plus One. Or maybe it was The Doctor. We’re fans of magic, she and I.
Christmas was coming and we couldn’t be happier, us magic believers. Our lights were lit, our oven was warm and our gaze was sneaking out the window while we talked about Santa. We were ready for Christmas Eve and dinner at my parent’s house where we’d all be kids around the tree again. Talking too loud over the other as we swapped silly Secret Santa gifts just to watch the other burst out in delighted laughter.
We were ready. Then as one we got the flu.
It was a test in fortitude. It was hacking coughs and burning fevers. It was trying our best to keep the lights twinkling for the little glassy, tired eyes looking up at us. Going to my parent’s house and trying to breathe and keep our germs to ourselves before leaving early. Wrapping gifts with half an eye while your thoughts swirl with sleep and cough medicine.
Not to mention when our kitchen sink completely backed up on that fateful Christmas Eve. What followed was a week of snot and tissues, coughing and groaning while Craig did his damnedest to battle the clog of all clogs. The one that defied science and physics. That no plunging, snaking or unscrewing pipes could get to. The dishes backed up as much as the dirty water and we were left drowning in worries over the cost of plumbers and there just wasn’t enough Lysol for how sick and gross I felt.
Just before we fell over the cliff, the water drained like a rush of an answered prayer and we danced around the kitchen for a good half hour.
Christmas this year was a blurry fever dream we’ve already forgotten.
But we tried. Like always, we keep on trucking and try our best to kick troubles right in the teeth.
Thanks, 2013. For the ups and downs. The opportunities and rejections.
The chance to believe in my own magic again. And the gift of sharing it with the little eyes looking up at me and the warm blue ones that still give me flutters in my chest.
Here’s to 2014. And more stories. Cause that’s all we are in the end, right?