Sabbath #20

The winter season is upon us and for the first time ever I will not be with my children for Christmas. Yesterday I unpacked the Christmas bells, collected each year in my previous marriage. They stop with the year 2002. The last few years are missing and I have no idea where they are stored. Like the last few years of the marriage…missing.

And this year I bought a new bell for the small tree in the living room. Newly remarried, I decided to begin the tradition again. It was always the most coveted gift, the only one cared about. Another year, another day. And now beginning again, new. In a new place. A small town where you are recognized, greeted warmly on the street. Welcomed.  Recorded Christmas Carols sounds on the sidewalk outside the jewelers, a town tradition.The churches display advent colors on wreaths, deep purples. We use Christmas dishes my husband bought for himself  when  first separated from his wife. Traditional. Conventional. And something sweet. I’ve started Christmas boxes to be mailed after the baking of favorite treats, the past baked into the fresh goods. And a few books and of course, the Christmas Bell with the year engraved.