Trying to quiet my over active mind last night was somewhat of a complete failure or lack of discipline on my part. How can I expect anyone to listen to me, if I won't even listen? Moments of restlessness seemed to continue into the wee hours of the early morning with every breath and other movement within and out of my domain, seemingly amplified. Yet despite all this mind commotion, some great inspirations appeared if only briefly. Some returned to intertwine with others making absolutely no sense, yet strangely and rather meekly I admit, I totally get that!
Christmas 2011, now just a memory, has been tucked away in that special place and all that remains are the trimmings. Working into the wee hours late last night, I was weary. Walking my last lap around the location, making sure all was done and snugly tucked in for the night, I began the nightly ritual of powering down the brain. Not an easy process, a mutiny in progress, rogue brain cells rush forward, resisting all efforts on my part to lay to rest the day's conversations, activities, feeding frenzies and any unsolved circumstances that hopefully will not result in "multiplication complication!"
The forty eight hours leading up to the actual holiday somehow seemed more peaceful. Reflecting on the events of the past year, I feel a sense of accomplishment but the unsettled brain resists. Living alone for many years, my grandmother would often talk to herself. When questioned about this habit, she seemed surprised, "doesn't everyone?" How could one small, seemingly preoccupied elderly woman's question have had such an impact on my life? Occasionally, throughout my adult life, that conversation with Memere, travelling at warp speed from the far away galaxies that criss-cross my sub conscious being, bursts forward, leaving no time for "beam me up Scotty" or "shields up!"
Trans-Siberian Orchestra's "Christmas Eve/ Sarajevo" at full volume, windows open, seventy-five tropical degrees and a matching speedometer at two in the morning, are my solitary Christmas tradition. The simplistic nature of the Christmas season, with glitz and glitter removed, beckons tradition. As my children read their Christmas messages, my hand carefully outlines the small gold locket that my mother cherished. Two very old and worn pictures live within this tiny heart shaped pendant, yet pry open this delicate case and the memories that spill from within are endless. For the next year, I will have the luxury of this precious treasure chest of a lifetime in my grasp. Mom and Dad have made their annual trip between their two daughters, a tradition my sister and I cherish.
As for Memere,"thank you", I get it. Perhaps a talk with the "evil twin" brain would help, it can't hurt. I don't recall my grandmother ever answering her imaginary visitors, but as the drive home with my Trans-Siberian friends reaches it's final destination, I understand that small unassuming elderly lady. Ever the politician, she answered a question with a question, she was never lonely. Do I believe some traits are a learned behavior? Absolutely, do you?
Christmas 2011, now just a memory, has been tucked away in that special place and all that remains are the trimmings. Working into the wee hours late last night, I was weary. Walking my last lap around the location, making sure all was done and snugly tucked in for the night, I began the nightly ritual of powering down the brain. Not an easy process, a mutiny in progress, rogue brain cells rush forward, resisting all efforts on my part to lay to rest the day's conversations, activities, feeding frenzies and any unsolved circumstances that hopefully will not result in "multiplication complication!"
The forty eight hours leading up to the actual holiday somehow seemed more peaceful. Reflecting on the events of the past year, I feel a sense of accomplishment but the unsettled brain resists. Living alone for many years, my grandmother would often talk to herself. When questioned about this habit, she seemed surprised, "doesn't everyone?" How could one small, seemingly preoccupied elderly woman's question have had such an impact on my life? Occasionally, throughout my adult life, that conversation with Memere, travelling at warp speed from the far away galaxies that criss-cross my sub conscious being, bursts forward, leaving no time for "beam me up Scotty" or "shields up!"
Trans-Siberian Orchestra's "Christmas Eve/ Sarajevo" at full volume, windows open, seventy-five tropical degrees and a matching speedometer at two in the morning, are my solitary Christmas tradition. The simplistic nature of the Christmas season, with glitz and glitter removed, beckons tradition. As my children read their Christmas messages, my hand carefully outlines the small gold locket that my mother cherished. Two very old and worn pictures live within this tiny heart shaped pendant, yet pry open this delicate case and the memories that spill from within are endless. For the next year, I will have the luxury of this precious treasure chest of a lifetime in my grasp. Mom and Dad have made their annual trip between their two daughters, a tradition my sister and I cherish.
As for Memere,"thank you", I get it. Perhaps a talk with the "evil twin" brain would help, it can't hurt. I don't recall my grandmother ever answering her imaginary visitors, but as the drive home with my Trans-Siberian friends reaches it's final destination, I understand that small unassuming elderly lady. Ever the politician, she answered a question with a question, she was never lonely. Do I believe some traits are a learned behavior? Absolutely, do you?
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