We have a thin covering of snow on the ground this morning--pockets of brown earth poking through--and the sky is brilliantly blue. The air is crisp and icy. Branches hang bare. Deer tracks reveal night visitors. A train moves in the distance. In the distance, friends move into new jobs and new relationships and old patterns and ripe laughter. In the kitchen, my husband brews coffee. In the next bedroom, my nephew stirs. Inside my body, among my muscles and organs and breath, an unborn child pushes up against my hand, whispers for the thousandth time a soundless hello. I whisper back. I whisper back with the sounds of my heart. Even in these deep winter days edged so closely in darkness I am light shooting up and shooting down and full of light full of lightness full.
What lies ahead? Dear God. So much that quivers in eagerness. But may I stay in this moment, and then the next, and then the next, so that when the day comes that is the day that is the light that is the now, I am ready, I am beating, never before will I have been more me.
May your new year be full of brightness, friends. Welcome 2013!