It's a glorious morning. Sugar-candy frost coats all the bare tree limbs and blades of grass, the snow-covered mountains glitter like crooked teeth as the sun tries to break through the heavy fog. Here we are in the crisp, cold days of December... and I'm in a holiday mood. Yes, me. No one is writing this for me... still Barb here. And no, I haven't been in the 'nog... yet. Crazy and contradictory as it sounds, for the first time in nearly a decade, I feel like putting up a Christmas tree, hauling out my Christmas sheet music and plunking away at the piano, making and wrapping fun little gifties for folks I love.
No, I haven't turned religious. Rest assured, I'm still the irreverent polyathiest I've been all along. It's just that... well... I feel... uh... I feel... festive, dangit! I know some of it stems from my current feelings of well being, amorous euphoria, and all around jois de vivre.
I think much of it has come from reconnecting with people from my past that I had considered long gone. Some are people that I somehow made an impression on 25-30+ years ago. Back when I felt that I was anything but impressive. It's just weird. I've had people "friend" me on facebook and say, "Oh, I remember you... you were the one who...(insert something positive here)" or "It's nice to be in contact with you, I always wanted to get to know you better." Really? Seriously? Even when I loathed myself enough that I tried to run as far away from myself as I could get? Even when I felt completely worthless? What was it I gave to anyone back then? What good could have possibly come from all that negative energy? When I look through my backwards glancing telescope I don't see the girl they saw. All I see is a sad girl lost in turmoil, raw suppressed feelings, anger and sadness. I'm not looking for answers and definitely not looking for compliments. It's just a bit of a marvel to me. While I always hoped for something better, I wish I had been able to actually enjoy those years more. I wish I had been more relaxed about... everything. I would have been dynamic.
Sure, I feel more than worthy to be anyone's friend these days. I like what's become of that girl. Thirty years later, I see myself as a caring, loving, funny, fun, creative, and intelligent individual. I'm not perfect, nowhere near it, but I sort of laud my flaws (or at least just give them a wry nod) rather than castigate myself for them.
What's my point here? I wish I knew. It seems to come back to my idea that one never knows how or when one is going to impact another person's life. We can't see into other people's memories to find what impressions might or might not have been made. Being a part of someone else's memory and being made privy to it, well... it's like opening a gift. Sure, sometimes it's a Pandora's box of rather startling, slightly discordant, and fairly surreal bits of things, but still a gift.... kind of like getting eulogized before you're too deaf to hear it.
Yeah. A gift. Sort of puts me in a festive mood.