Love came down at Christmas, 

   Love all lovely, Love Divine; 

Love was born at Christmas, 

   Star and angels gave the sign. . .

Excerpt from “Love Came Down At Christmas,” Christina Rossetti

There’s an incessant howling pouring into the new day. I look outside at the trees shaking, bending, leaning, and think I may not be able to go safely out. The house is cheerful and awake early. There is bustle, organizing to be done, stockings to be stuffed. Once we are all ready and waiting for my son and Zoom to open gifts, I notice the wind has calmed considerably, and I am able to walk to the river in the rain and watch the ice melt and all the outdoors to be transformed. The snow is gone from the field. I slog happily through puddles on pine needles and into the wetlands. I am very happy in this mess. I think about Christmas, what it means to me at this age of my life, and, it’s simple and pure: a day to honor birth. A day to honor the glorious birth of what is new. The promise of new, the renewal of new, the absolute fresh originality and hope of something born, that’s entirely new. Like a new day. Except, so much more. Like a grandchild. Indoors, my son and his partner join us on Zoom and we open gifts for a Covid Christmas in this special way. We are together in the way we can be, and it’s just right.