Meditation on Wheels

I'm canceling my flight to Georgia on the 17th--not because I'm not going there, but because I've decided to travel on wheels.

Driving is impractical, I told myself when I booked the flight a month ago.  But then I remembered: driving is well worth the time and expense. Besides, I'm not quite ready to leave just yet, having been home less than two weeks from the last trip.

Since my other home is my car, I'll enjoy exploring different roads and listening to podcasts, my meditation on wheels with no deadlines.  I'll be refreshed when I arrive, ready to celebrate.

It's been a full week--filled with good times with good conversations, and picture-taking of inspiring women.  But it's not complete yet, and I don't want to leave with straggly threads.  

As I was wrapping my final gifts last night to grandchildren, I thought about all the years my parents and grandparents made Christmas so starry-eyed happy for me.  The surprises.  The delicious food spread on a red tablecloth. The sugar cookies and date bars and hot chocolate and popcorn balls. The sparklers outside.  Decorating the tree with fake icicles.  A new dress to wear to church.  Going to Betty's house--and vice versa--on Christmas morning to see what Santa Claus left.

Like all traditions, we all tweak them a bit--but in the end, if they were good, we try to recreate the parts we can.  We remember the last Christmas we spent with someone we love--not knowing it was the last.  Sadness drips in streaks along with joy.

But when we were children, every Christmas was magical and whole. We believed in Santa Clause until we didn't and then we passed on the myth to those not yet in the know. It was a simpler and beautiful time--not freighted so much with the commercialism that starts now just after Halloween and Black Friday sales.

I used to think the best part was the gift-giving--and in a way, I still do.  But the gifts now are the intangibles of being with people we love and wrapping gifts for children who will, we hope, feel as excited by them as we felt when we woke up before dawn to find just what we wanted under the tree.