Reflections after a Dead Puppy Christmas

Every year at this time I ask myself the question.  “Now where was I?” It’s as if I left “my life” for somebody else’s.  Which just might be true, at one level. Always the holidays are full to overflowing with the unexpected.  This year my daughter brought home puppies from a rescue mission that had gone awry and we set up an emergency vet clinic here, where we nursed and held half-pound infants, trying desperately to save them from the ravages of Parvo.  Only one of 15 made it, and it was happily delivered on Christmas eve. In the middle of all this sadness; carols, games with friends, and the Beatles on Wii were islands of laughter.

Which brings up the big savior: dark humor. I’ve lived long enough to keep in mind the story in family history WHILE going through the tough stuff.  This will be the Christmas of the Dead Puppies, and we will laugh.  Soon.

But right now, I’m brought back to my life as it was before.  It usually takes me at least a week to remember where I was, and sometimes it’s a depressing or confusing time.  Breadcrumbs lead me back about a month to where I was before, to what was calling me when I wasn’t reacting.  Back to the subtle glimmer in the eye of possibility, the whisper of what is to come.

I’m listening again, and luckily it’s still there.  The longing to hear what my body wants, to write more regularly, to return to learning Spanish.  To learn by heart some poems.  There it is.  My “new year’s list.”  Sometimes it takes some humor, some recovery time, and some deep listening.  And when my life is led by longing, resolutions seem beside the point.

Where were you?  What is your longing?  What’s on THAT list?

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