I’ve been feeling rather uncreative lately, and I just can’t force it; I don’t even feel like writing my annual Christmas letter. Maybe my creativity isn’t a bottomless well, after all. I just need to rest and let it fill up again; when it flows freely again, then I will write again.
Or maybe it’s that life is just so good right now; I don’t want to miss any of it, sitting at my computer.
Today I put up a real Christmas tree. I’ve had a fake tree for 5 or 6 years now, and I always felt like I was faking it. To compensate, I got an 8’ tree and put it up today. It smells real, it looks real, it feels real, it scratched me real. I can’t wait to decorate it. Actually, I can wait, that’s why I am writing right now.
I’ve never kissed someone that I loved on New Year’s Eve. I’ve either not been able to be with them, or been out of a relationship. I always wait around for all the couples to finish kissing, and then I get in on the second round of family & friend hugs and kisses. I don’t know why it sounds so much sadder when I write it down; I always thought I was OK with it.
Speaking of kissing … (fill in own blank here)
Nothing feels quite like hawk and eagle watching, to me. I am a serious hawk-spotter. So much so, that I am a hazard on the roads. Not really. Well, yeah. I will crane my neck to get a good look at that red-tail on the roadside branch, that soaring broadwing, that occasional bald eagle. Hell, I pull over for those. Does anyone else notice how many hawks you can see if you look? They are fierce, wild, unfettered, majestic, proud, free. They are everything that I want to be.
Sometime, I will have more to say. Right now, I just want to put on my music, decorate my tree, think about Christmas, think about New Year’s, and think about the time in between those two.