a toast to december

Today was a cold, gray, rainy day, but a good cold, gray, rainy day. The seamless expanse of clouds reminded me of the landscape of my freshman year at Loyola, and the long lonely walks around the north side I'd sometimes take on gray afternoons. It reminded me of sipping coffee on the porch of Pamoja House, watching leaves and trash gather on our lawn. Today the weather felt lonelier than I was, and there was really nothing to do except light a fire in my wood stove, play some early Wilco (back when they were still alternative country) and read on my sofa until Hannah came over.

Today was a good day for appreciating wool--the hat, sweater, and blanket I've aquired here are all remarkably cheap and light for the warmth they provide. Something's still right in the world when a Garwali woman can weave better hiking clothing using natural fibers than outdoor gear companies can produce with the best of modern technology. Mom and Dad, please note that I'm still very thankful for the fancy-pants socks you mailed to me.

Today America feels incredibly distant, as much as it has since I left. I think it's the holidays--it takes a lot of faith to believe in the barrage of baked goods, obnoxious radio ads, pine wreaths, donation solicitations--it's just weird to think of all that stuff swirling around, knowing it'll come and go without me. I guess I won't miss the shopping season, but the gatherings with family and friends will be another thing, and I'll be thinking about them.

May they be joyful affairs, all of them. May some of you send me an email, chronicling the events. May there be warmth aplenty, laughter in excess, drinks and baked goods in moderation.