Quiet Time

I'm sitting here in my darkened living room.  The only light comes from my netbook screen and the  Christmas tree.  The dogs have stopped their random barking, and just now, I'm not listening to any music.  It's quiet and peaceful.

The tree makes me happy.  It's simple this year, lots of big, brightly-colored lights and my collection of vintage Shiny Brite mercury glass ornaments most of its adornment.  The only thing not glass on the tree is the red oval with one of Walter Anderson's angels carved in it that is at the top of the tree.  Around the ugly but necessary green plastic stand I have wrapped a red sparkly tree skirt I found at Big Lots.  The whole effect is very me, the new (LED bulbs) with the old (Shiny Brites at least as old as I, in many cases older), the sparkle and sheen.

It rests me just to look at it.  I haven't done a lot of "Christmasing" here at home this year.  I have kept it to the tree, which only got its ornaments today, a wreath of Christmas ornaments I made to see if I could and which I just found out is too large to put on my door behind the storm door, and the creche my grandfather made with its three little fragile Japanese ceramic figures.  I have huge collections of old world Santas and nativities that I have been adding to for years, but this year, I just can't stand the thought of taking them all out and then having to pack them all back up again in a few days.  The simplicity of the few pieces I have now is nice.

It's late, and I really should be trying to get in bed.  I can't want to, though.  Going to bed early on a weekend night seems like a kind of defeat somehow, like precious time thrown away.  When I should be trying to recharge, I'm watching one more episode, browsing one more page, reading one more chapter, writing one more entry, sitting just five more minutes in the multicolored glow of the tree....

Maybe, though, there's a kind of rest in this as well.  Oh, in just a few moments, the weariness will overrun me, and I'll give up, go push a cat or two off my side of the bed, and call it a night.  In the meantime, however, I'm going to enjoy this quiet time.  It's a rare thing.