It’s been a week. Sigh.
I had a car accident on the way to a holiday party. An unidentified, unsecured, flying object tumbled onto my freeway lane. It was a box the size of a big-screen TV. Before I could safely swerve out of the lane, I hit the UFO. The CHP had to do a freeway block across the lanes to pick up the debris.
We were not injured, but the bumper and headlight were destroyed.
The next day, I tried to cheer myself up and make the best of a bad situation. I listened to traditional, jazzy, and lo-fi Christmas music for the next few days. Gave gratitude that the only sore spots on my body were my lower back and my irritation that the driver of the other car didn’t stop.
Without a car, I’ve slowed down and reflected on past holidays.
When I was a single mom during the holiday season, I was working full-time, shopping for gifts, decorating the house, helping with the tamale making, corraling three active kids who had holiday recitals, wanted to see Christmas tree lighting ceremonies, and visit the two Christmas Tree Lanes in different cities. (I’m sure I left something out).
Now my kids are adults, and the holiday rush has become less active. It’s now a holiday rest.
What remains is making pork tamales with my mom and sisters a week before Christmas, making vegetarian/vegan tamales with my kids, and getting together with them and their SO’s on Christmas Eve. We have a potluck, drink champurrado, and play games.
Two new plans on our holiday calendar are:
- Make a gingerbread house. I don’t know how that’ll turn out, but we’ll see how it goes.
- Placing our 106-year-old Baby Jesus in the manger. He came to us with an exciting story about how he lost his pinkie finger. (How that happened is in my monthly newsletter).
I’m grateful the car incident didn’t leave us physically damaged. And for that, I’ll celebrate. And rest.
The poem for this week is more lighthearted.
Best wishes for a safe and thoughtful holiday.