Twas the night.

I went to a mellow, Sabbath evening, Christmas party tonight. It was held in a warm home of a close family of four. The one rule for the evening was simply no speaking. And so for what seemed like hours we sat in our own silence observing each other (which was better than making small talk at the late hour) with soft music in the background. The homestead shared stories and musical talents danced through the house, all the while, the cozy group bunched inside. We sang Christmas carols in one accord. (I love the singing and the music. I’ve always begged to have carols sung at home during the holidays, unfortunately we’re a musical bunch but we can’t seem to play the same tune.) But the awing voices brought holiday cheer, I just wish the holiday season was like that everyday (Although, I suppose if it were, there would be nothing special about the season). When the singing faded we sat again in silence, some with heavy hearts, most just heavy eyes. Now I find myself sitting alone in this dark, quiet, box of a house. I want to sing a caroling duo before tucking into bed, maybe tell a Christmas story, count down the days until the 25^th, or secretly whisper my wish list. But I’m alone, so to bed I trudge.