Pause, Listen, Absorb

Here we are, ladies and gentlemen: the very last day EVER of 2014. Never ever in the history of our world will there be another December 31, 2014. Pause to let that sink in, and to appreciate this historic moment.

Photo cred: all beautiful photos here taken by Leah Nissley

I didn't think I'd blog for a while, at least not til after New Year's. But something about the wood-smoke infused, sleepy air of this cabin surrounded by forest (where I'm currently enjoying the first real breaths of fresh air and the freedom to do nothing since Christmas break started) makes me want to sit down and write, half to sort out all the thoughts crowding into my head and half just for the pure enjoyment of putting words on a page. So bear with me in my ramblings. I'm in a rambling mood.

The past two days have slipped past in a whirlwind of late nights and wool socks and snuggles and raucous, honest laughter. There have been several walks in the woods and numerous naps (all the naps I've wanted to take during the semester but couldn't due to lack of time are catching up to me now). I'm soaking up peace like a thirsty sponge. I am so tired. But it's a good tired. A safe tired, like for the first time in a long time my entire body is relaxing. Every time I sit down somewhere warm, I want to purr like a kitten and curl up fast asleep. This morning when I woke up I remembered my dreams, which is funny because I really haven't dreamed (or at least remembered it) in such a long time. Probably because I haven't slept so well since the end of the summer.

Right now it's snowing outside, and it's lovely. Whenever the sun comes out, the air looks like it's thick with glitter. Leah and I are down in the furnace room, contentedly lost in our own inner worlds. She's working on a painting. I'm burrowed in a mountain of blankets and pillows on the sofa by the window. There's something so happy about being able to quietly work in the same space as someone else, without feeling compelled to start a conversation. You know you've found a good friend when you're comfortable with the sound of each other's silence. If I had my old journals with me, I'd probably want to flip through the hundreds of pages and the hundreds of things that happened since January 1st. That's become an end-of-year tradition of mine. But perhaps it's better that I don't. Why get lost in the pages of other days when today is so wonderful in and of itself?

I feel like I've figured out how to step out of time, like I've stumbled upon some mysterious land with no clocks, a land in which we get up when we're not tired anymore, eat when we feel like it, play outside until we run out of daylight, and go to bed when we've thoroughly exhausted ourselves with laughter and ridiculous dancing. I think I might have looked at a clock twice yesterday. I wish life could be like this more often. Present-focused, I guess, without so much worry about rushing to the next thing or getting to places on time. But the fact that it's not is also one of the things that makes me so thankful for days like today and moments like this moment. I'm thankful for bananas with peanut butter, and bed-jumping, and wild tickling matches that turn into wrestling matches, and the freedom not to take a shower if I don't feel like it (which I don't), and Leah's Spotify playlists, and the sound of Anna's laughter, and Lezlee's reading voice, and the way the snow looks when the wind blows it in ripple patterns across the back deck. I'm thankful for the pale-gold of winter sunlight.

And I hope you also find enjoyment in your last day of 2014, as much enjoyment as I'm discovering in mine. Although part of me wants to stay in this blanket cocoon forever, I think it is now time to finish blogging, bid farewell to the couch, and perhaps go for a walk.