Dec 19, 2006 13:48
I spent all of yesterday baking cookies in the kitchen, and I emerged by eleven last night with about 12 dozen treats, a smashed pitcher, a broken canister, a bag of broken glass and a cut on my foot. I had a bit of an explosion.
The older I get, the harder it is for me to get Christmas gifts. Since I left corporate America, I've been able to be more thoughtful about others, myself, and life in general, but still I find myself not able to give what I really wish I could. If I could, I would give my friend Kathleen the baby she prays for. I'd give Rajan a month of rest and sunshine. I'd give the people I love that deep feeling of warmth I've had a few times in my life. I'd give them true hope for the future. I'd give my new friends eyes to see how precious and beautiful they are--so they could see what I see.
What do I owe myself this year? The selfish part of me wishes I could give myself the perfect, giving, insightful novel, but I think what I deeply want is to treat my own fragile life with respect, and live it well. I want to know what that means.