Sunday, January 7, 2018

My Tree is Still Up

In my defense, today is the Russian Orthodox Christmas.  And there are a lot of Russians in Kyrgyzstan.  Not in Jalalabad, but still.

CDI has taken a two-week holiday, and so the rhythms around here have been slower and more relaxed.  We've watched DVD's 'til midnight and have slept 'til eight.  Or nine, depending on which generation we claim as our own.  We've snuggled under blankets and drunk gallons of hot chocolate.

We've attended big bashes and hosted some too.

 We've been silly

 and serious,
  and sweet.

 But mostly silly.

  We've received the best gifts
and been sobered by how quickly our stories can change.

We saw life on this earth end suddenly for a sweet friend on Christmas Day.
And we somberly embraced a new reality for her young son.

We've missed our girls in other countries while being really thankful for apps that allow us to talk with them anytime.

We've finished projects and novels and games.
And we've started new ones.

Today, the rhythms are peaceful around here.  The next-door-neighbor killed a goat and a sheep, and at least some of us are expected to show up and eat.  The boys are running at a stadium with friends.  Calla and I packed away some decorations.  But my tree is still up.

I like it.

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