I am soaking in the quiet of this moment as I sit, sip coffee, and type on a lap top that is, actually, on my lap.
When I rise from my writing-spot on the couch, the busyness of this day will begin, and build, and crescendo, and quiet, and go silent again.
When I rise and walk to the kitchen the cooking will start. Luna will not doze at my feet as she is doing now; she will follow them, she will move from warm kitchen to cold outdoors, back and forth, back and forth, until I either walk with her or the guests arrive.
Soon my home will fill with grown children and their partners, and their own children, and we will eat soups (turkey or tomato,) and sandwiches (turkey, toasted cheese, or veggie,) and salad, followed by singing, gifts, and birthday cake for the grand-twins, and then, by mid-afternoon, my husband and I will be washing dishes, lighting a fire, watching the daylight ebb, and lighting a candle of hope as night draws in.
That little candle is holding a lot for this world right now.
One little light against so much darkness.
Let it shine.
Courage my dears. Love one another.
