My third Christmas on my own ~ I've decided to call this, "The Year of the Rat". Though it is in fact the year of the rabbit, here we have our own reasons - - -
Days ago, while searching through the seemingly endless cabinets in my garage, I came across a rodent. It was dazed and slow to move. Gathering all my gusto, I dislodged the rat, nest and all, from the shelf it occupied. I took it and it's cozy bed made on top of the box of Christmas lights I'd been searching for and I let them be, hoping IT, or as it turns out, SHE would hit the road and let me gag my way through sweeping up her shredded paper bedding before I tackled the likely tangled strands of half working lights shoved in the box she rested on. She would not budge. She, chubby and wide eyed, stayed put. Suppressing my natural urge to scream and flee myself, I instead remained composed, found a broom and a dust pan. She was scooped up, but as luck would have it, my luck that is, she promptly began to give birth to several rat babies right before my very eyes, while in the dust pan.
Yes - I know. Why does this happen to me? What am I? The stable keeper in Bethlehem?
Christmas spirit kicks in. An empty firewood box makes a decent new home, especially when it's stuffed with the stinky paper nest and mom, plus babies are carefully placed inside of it. The whole fam-damily is relocated west and outside of my garage, to which I realize they will quite likely return to once again pillage and deflower my cabinets, this time in mass and not just a single mother, stuck in place, struggling, overwhelmed and alone. Yup.
What has changed in these three years, these three Christmases? Lots has and then again, maybe not all that much has, but more then likely what's changed is enough for now...
This year my children strung the lights on the outside of the house all by themselves and they've managed to withstand the raging winds that seem to want to pull them down.
I've accepted that one sugar cookie can actually handle a half a bottle of sprinkles without collapsing. I no longer make futile attempts to dictate the amount of decoration on each and every cookie.
My heart only skips a few beats now when a mom beside me at a holiday program says, "See, your daughter is actually smiling and having a good time", a comment said with sweetness, but for me, the mother of a child with Asperges, can never really be sweet to hear. I'd like her smiling to be typical and go unnoticed, not seen as extraordinary. Now that would make life sweet.
Somedays I'm more afraid then I ever was, but other days I'm not afraid at all, not one little bit.
I still wake up and wish that I could kiss my mom good morning on Christmas Day.
But I never wonder anymore if I did the right thing.
Time moves slowly still and somehow goes by too fast.
Recently I went to sleep on the other side of my bed and interestingly enough it felt surprisingly right. I plan to try it again, hopefully soon.
I love my family and appreciate all of my friends more then ever.
Night sky and the stars still move me, still touch me at my core, just the same as they always could.
I'm happier now.
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