Sunday, December 18, 2011

bubble lights and caramel

All material signs point to Christmas arriving next week.  Sporadic lights and decorations adorn a few apartment fronts, a Christmas village of shops and massive trees find home in parks, radio stations play seasonal appropriate music, the hustle and bustle downtown is increased as people shop for gifts, holiday parties with themed alcohol and treats bring friends together.. and general wishes for health, happiness, and merriment are passed between all.  Even the weather gathered a brisk and chill feel, cooperating with the framework I hold for this time of year.  Despite all the evidence of the impending holiday, I cannot seem to join - even as I sip spiced cider at parties, listen to and sing Christmas music, get and wrap presents, and enjoy the decorations I remain a bit disconnected.

Yesterday, in continuance of a new tradition, I collected ingredients for caramels, truffles, and such treats to make.  Loading a shopping cart with sugar, chocolate and corn syrup I realized the disconnect I felt was as large as the state of Pennsylvania; plain and simple - I miss my family farm. It's the foundation and core of my Christmas framework.  For many years, the large house, and especially kitchen, hosted a great bunch of activity approaching, during, and following the holiday. Caramels were cut and wrapped in the midst of smacking Tim's hands as he stole bits to eat..  Robert Shaw played in the background.. if we were fortunate, snow fell outside.. the bubble lights reflected in the mirror...  even sitting here, I can nearly feel the atmosphere.  All senses gather information which translates into safety, warmth, peace, and love.  And this year, separate from that atmosphere, I definitely sense the loss or change.  Honestly, while shopping I wanted to put all the ingredients back on the shelves... even when I returned home, I begrudgingly put everything away.  For a minute, I had no intention of following through with the recipes; the corn syrup and whipping cream could rot for all I cared! In a particularly cynical moment, I figured the caramels would fail because they were created in my galley style kitchen of Philadelphia, rather than Mom's eat-in kitchen.. the air is cleaner there!  But, better sense prevailed. After-all, journeys require balancing of old frameworks and traditions with the new...to hold onto the peace and memories of the past, while remaining open.  And so, with Ben Howard and Iron & Wine playing in the background, I made caramels!  While stirring and waiting for the temperature to heat the mixture into caramel, I leaned into the homesick feelings and embraced the memories of years past.  I willed the love of these thoughts into the boiling liquid, as though coaxing it to form perfectly.. for it to remember the "relationship" with me, regardless of location.

Later in the evening, I experienced a microcosm of the above feelings; an illustration of the disconnect. The scene embodied Christmas party perfection, from the close-knit friends to the cinnamon cookies to the TV fire scene to the music playing.  Immediately upon entering the room, I recognized the correlation with my struggle over the holiday season - a change in framework and dare to find peace.  Even the difference in attire, with my ripped jeans and sweater contrasting with chic holiday dress of others, threatened to create distance and detachment. But, with a few seconds of awareness and observation, I accepted the challenge.  After-all, the caramel turned out fabulous.  A couple minutes later, with a medium bodied Syrah in hand, my attention turned to the Christmas tree in the corner.  Immediately my eyes were drawn to the lights adorning the tree.  They were not any old regular colored or white lights, no.. these were special and very familiar.  I felt a wave of peace, warmth, and love wash over me; it nearly brought to tears to my eyes...for bubble lights graced the tree.  Bubble lights that I've never seen anywhere besides my grandmother and mother's home.  


"What is Christmas? It is tenderness for the past, courage for the present, hope for the future. It is a fervent wish that every cup may overflow with blessings rich and eternal, and that every path may lead to peace."  - Agnes M. Pharo



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