Sparks Ignites

I am a Christmas-a-holic. Yes, I love the entire Christmas season. I love the decorations, the music, the food, the gift giving, and the time spent with loved ones. I’m always filled with a sense of wonder when the holiday season arrives. Every Christmas is built on memories and traditions that were part of my childhood. Growing up, there was only one thing that didn’t jingle my bells about December 25 th , and that was the man in red – Santa Claus. It wasn’t that I didn’t want the gifts or doubted his existence. I just didn’t want to sit on his lap or be anywhere in his vicinity. I had a “Santa safety zone” and it was at least a football field in size. Anything closer and my knees grew weak and visions of monster sugar plums danced before my eyes. Even being downwind of a peppermint scent made me queasy.

Okay, it’s that time of year again. You know, the Holiday Season – when Halloween morphs into Christmas. We’ve barely had time to put away the cobwebs, ghosts and gravestones before out come the snowmen, holly and lights. In fact, retailers don’t even wait for Halloween to be over before Christmas starts blending into the mix

The following four posts were written over the course of four days.  They are a reflection of living with and inside depression.

Many times we don’t realize the significance of something until after the fact. We’ve needed a chance to reflect upon it, or we see it differently after time has passed.  There can be a lesson learned, and we see the greater scheme of moments in our lives. The other day I was deleting email and trying to clean old voice messages off my iPhone. I got to a certain point with the messages when I reached a number of them left by my mom. It wasn’t a surprise. I knew they were there. I haven’t deleted them, because it’s still a connection to her. My mom died two years ago today.

I’ve never been interested in “afternoon tea,” “high tea”, or any type of formal tea custom. To me, it was a group of older, dowager-like ladies with pinkies erect, pressed lace collars, and big royal-sized purses at their feet.  A snooty way to sip a spot of tea and nibble on tiny cucumber sandwiches.  The whole routine seemed stodgy and a bit grandmotherly.

Never just go by what's on the outside. You must dig beneath to find the real substance of what can be hidden by a pleasing exterior.

This September marks the 14 th anniversary of 9/11. The day when the world watched in shock as the terrorists attacked the US, destroying the World Trade Center’s twin towers, damaging the Pentagon, and crashing a passenger plane into a Pennsylvania field. This act of terrorism killed almost three thousand individuals, decimated New York’s Financial District, and left the country in panic and fear. It was a tragedy that resulted in the largest loss of life from a foreign attack on American soil and the greatest single loss of rescue personnel in our history. Time can help diminish the pain of a tragedy, but we “never forget.” The act of destruction, devastation and terror of that day is etched in our minds. It’s one of those horrible, defining days in our country’s history like the assassination of President Kennedy.   We all remember where we were and what we were doing when we heard the tragic news that planes crashed into the twin towers.