I'm assuming we won't be having a white Christmas here, but my morning walk in the snow last week made me wish for it even more. The snowflakes were the size of my hands and stuck to my face. It was a quiet moment, outside and in.
Lately I've been complaining of my dark walks and how little fun they were for me. I felt like I was missing out on what is there, right next to me. For a while I would just walk Ducky as quickly as possible, just so I could get home and out of the drizzle and cold. Then I started to look around again. Instead of seeing the flowers, porches, yards; I saw coziness, cheer, happiness of the people inside. I've looked at these houses for months, not realizing that they were homes.
(It made me want to make my little apartment feel more like a home than ever, perhaps able to spread some happiness and warmth to someone else.)
Time is somehow escaping me. It is ever so much more noticeable around this time of year, the end of another year. I've been looking back, not to the things that I think I should change, but to the best of memories. Not all of them are happy and great, some taught hard lessons, which make them great. And some of the memories are blurry, but the overall feeling is still in my mind. And some of them are just filled with so much love, that's all that really mattered.