The Present

On this, the eve of the fourteenth Christmas since you first captivated my heart, I have no card or gift for you. This year I’ll express my love with reciprocated silence, a quiet release.

I met a soulmate all those years ago. Only a soulmate could bring me to where I am tonight, alone on Christmas Eve, at peace. Heavenly peace. The internal cyclone aroused by our encounters has, at last, deposited me on an island surrounded by tranquil, pools of forgiveness, forgiveness flowing from the tears of my inner child.

Not yet two-years old, that child, assaulted on December twenty fifth, filled the same void you presented all these years later. The child knew I was within the scope of a familiar threat soon after you and I met. She sensed a cocked trigger, yet she and I both struggled to escape the impending attack.

Denial is poison. Ugly, raised scars of self-recriminating sutures abscess, and festering wounds will eventually demand cleansing. You unleashed everything a toddler couldn’t understand, and a woman had to. It was a long and arduous process to heal, to reach the island’s shore stronger and, most assuredly, wiser.

My cat, Onyx, is sleeping beneath a warm glow of multi-colored lights reflected in metallic garland and glass orbs. His lean, black body wrapped part way around a red, felt-draped base holding the Christmas tree, reminds me of the belt on Santa’s scarlet coat. Onyx has earned his rest after helping make the tree festive. Climbing boughs to rearrange carefully placed ornaments is strenuous. I imagine Santa will be just as tired after his secretive excursions up and down chimneys across the globe tonight.

Watching this afternoon’s broadcast of Handel’s Messiah sparked an impromptu drive to a nearby church parking lot where the Christmas tree vendor was about to leave. He smiled broadly, handing me one of eight remaining trees tossed into the back of his truck and said, “with pleasure, ma’am. I always feel sad for the trees who don’t go to a home for Christmas.”

“You’re a perfect complement to my home, dear tree,” I silently reassured it.

We are one; the tree, the cat, and me. Evening meditations begin with chakra clearing, red at the root rising to a violet-hued angel at the crown. This practice is as warm and inviting as a mug of hot cocoa after a moonlit skate at the nearby outdoor rink. Tonight, joy has made my cheeks rosy, and my heart is warm with gratitude.

Five nights ago, the eve of winter solstice, I placed small, wrapped boxes on the east windowsill in the front room. The solstice boxes, as they’ve come to be known, were the first new tradition established when Onyx and I celebrated our first Christmas here seven years ago. Tonight, there are eleven small, festive boxes on the window’s ledge, making the total to date, thirty-two. A thirty-third box is waiting to be set under our first Christmas tree in this home and mark a new milestone.

Each solstice box is empty and symbolizes what I’ve released from subconscious nagging throughout the year. Thoughts, memories, or worries that prevent me from taking confident, forward action in my life now are placed in a solstice box when they have been silenced and permanently deleted from the debilitating sound loops of my inner voice. Each box represents acceptance.

Tonight’s box is intentionally larger than the others. Wrapped in turquoise paper splashed with delicate silver doves, it marks my ceremonial transition from dreading Christmas to embracing the season with the delight of a child experiencing something magical for the very first time.

Onyx stretches and settles into a more dignified position, front paws curled against his chest, sensing the reverence of what I am about to affirm aloud.

“I am a presence through which turmoil has passed, it’s wake now calm. I release myself from egoic uncertainty knowing that each moment forward is unique unto itself and will have no lingering past or anticipated future. I am present. This moment all there is.”

My hands tremble a little as I set this gift to the right of Onyx. A pine needle falls from the tree in sympathetic vibration and rest directly atop the most meaningful release to date.