Enough

 

I burned the stollen. I blame it on the school district, who, in their infinite wisdom, and despite considerable feedback this year AND the last time they made the same bad decision, kept us in school until December 22^nd.  Students were dropping off like flies—sick, tired, leaving early for planned vacations and rescheduled flights as the weather turned bad and everyone tried to get somewhere while they could. “Why are you here?” I asked one miserable looking junior on the last day. “I didn’t want to miss anything,” he said. “”Why are you?” “There are no subs,” I replied, equally miserable with peak cold and a slowly fading sinus/ear infection.  “I was praying for an ice storm.” He nodded. The ice storm came the next day, when we were already out of school.

It has been that kind of December—nothing catastrophic, but just off. The Winter Lights on our arch and fence shorted out because I did not fix the duct tape that kept the rain out this summer, when it was dry. I was late with the cards and struggled to find an idea that stayed positive. I was just a little sick for weeks before I finally broke down and went for antibiotics, so I miscounted the number of eggs I needed to do all of the Yule baking, and was baking the stollen on Christmas morning, when I was tired and unfocused. I (wisely) decided against attempting anything complicated for dinner and we had leftover latkes instead.

When I realized that the fence’s lights were out for the duration of the rains—which could be months in the Willamette Valley—I found the small strand I bought for a night bike ride a few weeks ago. A dozen of us decorated our bikes and cruised around our neighborhood, waving at cars and dog walkers. They are battery operated and remarkably bright and cheery. I wrapped them around the wreath we have hanging on the front porch and turned them on. It’s not perfect—they will not guide someone through our yard on a dark evening—but they will do. Some years, a small strand of lights might just be…enough.