Small Gratitudes, Sudden Graces
For many, the holidays are fraught with expectations: the gathering of family members near and far flung, the introduction of new friends and partners, and a flurry of food preparation. Those without dear ones can find themselves alone, or on the periphery of a group of near strangers. Although I love my own traditions, hard-won and honed through the years, I know that time and circumstance will transform them eventually. When it became clear that my family of origin would never host a holiday event, I created my own rituals: initially baking my presents and collecting ornaments,and later finding the perfect tree with our children, making ornaments, and sharing a no-holds-barred brunch of our favorite foods.
The children are grown now, returning this year to share what may be one of the last holidays with just our nuclear family. We will continually redefine connection as we navigate geographical challenges. It is a necessary part of being human, this reassessment. Once we were the caregivers, orchestrating what was to all of us a magical day. Now we are beginning the process of backing off, and inviting the younger generation to create and include us in their own traditions.
Yesterday we saw seven wild turkeys. Today there were a dozen or more in the field by the house. Some had their tail feathers fanned out, like drab peacocks. They were endangered in numbers once but now they appear to have returned. I see them regularly on my drive down the rural side roads to work. As they congregate, they nuzzle against each other congenially. This reminds me of a group of woman I see regularly in the local coffee shop, sharing the heartaches and joys of daily living. One friend is ailing, another suffers from chronic pain. Friends gather around them, offering words, soup, company. None of these things will change the circumstances but they do offer a glimpse into the grace that we humans can radiate, sometimes unexpectedly.
In this new year, I strive to understand and celebrate the paths of others even as I redefine my own. I plan to see more sunrises, mountains, craggy coastal vistas, share more wine and coffee. Imperfection defines all of us; the mistakes we make in our striving for connection. Nature doesn’t dwell on the imperfections but rather revels in them–a chipped-off rock ledge, the tangle of weeds choking a rhododendron,a new landscape made from a volcanic eruption. I look forward to experimenting with the myriad configurations of language, a mixed media creation, or just joining friends and family at a holiday table set for eight or more.
Literary Imaginings by Lisa C. Taylor 