December. We live in a world torn apart by conflicts. But when December spreads its carpet of snow, penetrating, soothing, comforting, the evening makes the urban glow of decorated storefronts shimmer as if by magic. December’s pause, to give us back access to childhood, December’s gentleness under the shelter of the fir trees. The Christmas elves of charitable organizations busy themselves bringing bread to the tables of the less fortunate. The memory of Christmases of old, the fresh purity of Christmas, the beloved return of songs, December’s rocking motion, the magic of enchantment through the workings of dreams. The inner truce we impose upon our lives to allow them to reach the gardens of dreams. The warm morning coffee as the snow falls. The dazzled gaze that little children cast upon December. The evening herbal tea arriving so quickly in the blizzard. The healthy pause of winter sports. The inhabited presence of your steps on the snow. The white rooftops of houses. The opening of the heart to the magic of fairy tales. The humble simplicity of Christmas movies. December joins us with its dazzled gaze upon the things of life. For December steps back: December embraces the prudence of the wisdom of elders, December takes the time to breathe and to draw inspiration beneath the holly as dreams pass by. December’s winks, kisses on the cheek, December’s embraces, the sudden desire to simplify things, to breathe deeply, to shed the useless weights of resentments, prerequisites, prohibitions, and “taken-for-granteds.” December’s delights and sweet indulgences: tourtière, meatball stew and pig’s feet, roast turkey, baked beans, sugar pie, Yule log, sucre à la crème, cretons, doughnuts dusted with a sugary snow, potato and pasta salads, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, gingerbread cookies, fruitcakes, eggnog with hints of cinnamon, homemade cookies, chocolate croissants, pastries sweetened with honey, hazelnut chocolate, marzipan treats, nougat, meringue, Black Forest cake… December—so that we may believe in it.
