Wrangler Dani

I’m sitting in the dark, lit only by the glow of my laptop and the colored lights from our baby Christmas tree.  The night feels settled and slumbering, as though the Christmas lights and I are the only ones awake, sharing a midnight secret. It’s quiet, something we rarely get in our tightly packed neighborhood. I hear no motorcycles or music, no sirens or shouts. Just the refrigerator humming occasionally, and my typing.

My husband is sound asleep. When I can’t sleep and fidget like a fussy toddler, he tries to ward off my over-active brain, as though he hasn’t fought enough dragons for me all day, and sometimes it works. Whether it works or not, I’m always grateful that (even in his sleep) he loves me. But sometimes, I need to slip away. I need to let him sleep, and come out here, in the dark, with just my thoughts and a laptop to catch them in.

I’m thinking about Christmas tonight, about getting older and starting a family and the dreams that brush up against us in the dark, when we have less day-to-day to scare them off with.  I’m thinking about how I’m as moved by the lights on our tiny tree now, as I was as a precocious little one, sneaking out in the dark to see my mom and dad snuggled in front of a lit tree, talking softly, until I was noticed and shooed back to bed. There’s no magic in this tiny tree, or any other. We purchased it with a still unused wedding gift card from Lowe’s, and there was no ceremony about it. The young fella at the lot cut it open for us, we bought a stand and hauled it home, to my giggles and Adam’s grins.  But now it’s here, and it’s ours, and it speaks of tradition and family and the hope of many Christmases to come.

I’m content tonight. The holiday funk has alive and well, and I’m sure that more than one co-worker will get their crazy on at some holiday party and make me want to bah-humbug the whole thing. But tonight, I’m reminded of Love that is larger than our finite attempts at an Earthly holiday, and I’m encouraged to live it out, even when all is not quiet, and my Christmas lights are not twinkling so persuasively.

Speaking of, I have a husband in the other room. I think he would like a hug and a kiss (even in his sleep).