Another Perfect Morning

The snow falls in fat flakes outside, pushed into flurries like ghosts by a fitful east wind.  It looks like it will stick this morning, blanketing the deck, the rock garden, the acres of unconquered black berries, the tall firs just down slope.  It is a beautiful morning.

The perfect wife thinks that bacon-cheddar french fries and sausage will make a wonderful christmas breakfast.  She wears a silly santa hat and a tight pirate tank top with loose dragon pajama bottoms... perfectly her: sensuous and cute and deep.

The kids are good- they never did the game of waking up at 0400 and waking up the parents to eagerly tear into presents.  They like presents, but they are neither so greedy that they must have them now nor so insecure that they must see them to believe.  They choose to open them on christmas morning instead of christmas eve or the solstice because they enjoy the anticipation.  That's a patience and discipline I don't see in many children.

The family is mixed and that makes for a medley of tradition- grandparents on one side catholics from "the old country" in Eastern Europe.  Surviving grandparents on the other side quietly pagan- not overtly, very secret with many traditions lost, resulting in something more a relationship with the world and with presumed (and often scary and dangerous) forces.  The parent from the catholic side is Wiccan; the parent from the pagan side bases  spirituality on solitude and the Quest.

So the children grow up with a taste of each and christmas tries not to be confusing.  The solstice is the big night, with vigil and fires; Christmas Eve is the big night for one grandparent, with gifts and traditional meals.  The children choose Christmas morning, because it is the last day important to so many and the longest they can stretch out the festivities.  The only reason the season doesn't confuse them is because we have made it so clearly about each other, about family.  Friends too, but family.

The one who coordinates this all is Kami.  Without her I know I would drift away from this world, farther and farther to the edge of experience.  Not that I don't do that, but she makes me return, brings me back to the world of hearth fires and family dinners.  She has given two autistic children the feeling of security they need and the confidence to live beyond that security.  Every child needs "roots and wings" and these children more than most.  They have them.  I could never have given them roots, not sure I even understand the concept beyond the intellectual level.

So it is another perfect morning with good company and good coffee.  Mellow dogs and dignified cats and snow falling beyond the warmth of home.