Last week on a balmy December evening, I wandered the grounds of one of my favorite places, very slowly meandering and gazing at the changing light, the vast painted clouds, and the soft colors of a fading year easing into wintertime. The mansion was lit up with lights and trees and holiday decorations and such a feeling of comfort filled my heart, as it is what is familiar to me. This is what is familiar, so it still brings comfort. And there was going to be a tree lighting that I couldn't afford to attend, but that was fine as I was happier wandering the grounds while they were open, and happy to know that others were celebrating in a way that brought them joy, and that comfort was near. The moon rose above the pines and a hawk spoke a greeting before dark came. The sky lit up over the horizon and blushed as it disappeared for the day, and that moon glowed pale above the golden light in the big house as people hurriedly prepared indoors to have visitors expecting food, cheer, and merry presented to them on a shining tray. That moon shone bright and unobtrusively, and the air filled with the scent of wet earth made its presence felt like a freshly birthed hug. That moon and its soft glow were both my sanctuary and my holiday all wrapped up in one. Choirs may sing their holiday songs but the birds are sweeter to my ears right now as winter joins in the dance of the circle of life. And the moon with its soft gaze back to me was my holiday tree lighting, as it perched for a time above the pines in that deepening blue of the sky. And I felt so wonderfully small and part of it all.
