I gathered up these things from my workspace and the pile of things-at-the-bottom-of-the-stairs-which-need to-go-up, and from the kitchen table. My bedroom is this color and my studio. This is the blue that reminds me of swimming pools, reminds me of home. When you fly over Southern California you see shimmering oval or kidney-shaped swimming pools, like so very many turquoise polka dots on the landscape.
I am missing home. I do, all the time, but feel the sting of home sickness in particularly keen ways this time of year. Even without the private sadnesses, there are so many public reminders and glimpses of home (the Rose Parade reduces me to puddles of tears).
I'm grateful for the memories and traditions of the magical Christmases we had in times past. Those memories and traditions are mine forever: some captured in photographs, some I can still smell and taste or hang on my tree, some are conjured instantly through song or film. And there are a few new ones to look forward to too.
A big thank you to Lisa, for inviting us to blog gratefulness this past month. It was a lovely experience both as participant and witness.