Seasons Turning

 On December 21st, my cousin, sister and I were sitting around the dinner table with our grandparents.  We recalled that it was the winter solstice.  My cousin explained that it is also The Great Conjunction: Saturn and Jupiter were to align in the skies so they appear as one.  After dinner, grandpa gave us each a book used to track where we want to be in 5 years.  Grandma surprised me with a birthday cake, and I realized I hadn't seen any of my family since I turned 25.  "A toast to the universal shift!" we raised our glasses of red wine.  We were all washing and drying the dishes together in the kitchen, and I held up two separate pot lids and began to gently clink them together. I turned and opened the door to the back porch, tiptoeing out into the dark light. I let the cold December air swell and burn in my lungs. I walked to the edge of the porch, gazing at the lights strung across branches that held the weight so gently. I brought the two lids to...

This fall, we were going through my late cousin Claire’s things at her small apartment in Minneapolis. A large, open glass bowl sat alone on a shelf. We all stared at it, knowing it was too delicate to discard, but also acknowledging none of us would have any idea what to use it for. Claire’s husband Mike suggested our grandma might like it, and we all agreed she would find some way to incorporate it onto her mantle. A few nights ago, I was talking to my grandma on the phone. She told me she was grateful for a break, as she had been trying to set up a Christmas scene, but that the little church kept tipping over. I told her to send me a picture of it when she was done. A few minutes after we hung up, she sent me the promised photo. Witnessing immense pain, grief, uncertainty and heartache this holiday season, yet at the same time finding new ways to hold together the familiar bits and pieces.