traditions.

they came back to me today while standing in the aisles at michaels', all the times i've overheard friends, newly married, or expecting children, talk about the traditions they want for their family. things to hold onto over the years, cherish, remember. summer camping trips to yosemite, waffles on thanksgiving, making homemade christmas ornaments.

my family has some classics that i always think about this time of year. rolos in the stockings. opening gifts on christmas eve with lots of snacks in between. carrot cake on my birthday. a tree with colored lights and handmade photos of my brother and i as children.

but this year, more than ever, i have felt the need for a tree of my very own. as i consider this, walking through the store several times, i struggle with more than the investment of money.

what i really find myself asking this christmas is, can i build traditions without the husband and kids? what do i want to establish for the future? what do i want to hold onto this year and the next? should i carry on with tradition, even if it's only me?

it is the season of advent. of waiting.

there are things i wait for that are out of my control. it's hardest perhaps to wait for these things. and in the waiting, in the stillness, there are many smaller choices. these days, i find so much love in the traditions i build for myself. of morning light shifting through stainglass windows on sundays, the choir singing to my deepest self. of walks to work with german books over my shoulder and a dill chicken salad sandwich on rye. of fires and baths in the evening, and phone calls on saturdays.

in these ways i settle a bit further into my own steps. i live here, in california, alone in a home i love. the rainfall outside my windows is like snow in winter to my east coast senses, convincing me of the season that has come. it is a year for new beginnings, and so i choose my very first tree. a nice big one, because i love beautiful things done right, and i believe in splurging in those moments when you can sense that it really does matter.

i want to sit in the light of christmas. i want to open the box of ornaments collected, never hung. i want to belong in the house with windows that glow. i want to know this welcome. i want to look forward to all the years to come, and to wait for the baby jesus.