Riding the Wave, 42 & 43. Contentment.

Christmas and its pantagruelian feasts have ended; now it's the New Year's turn next week. Having my cooking enthusiasm grow and wane at will, after organizing two special meals, my mind seems stuck and I still have little idea what to make for lunch today. Oh, well.

Food we have, but I'll still go food shopping this afternoon, only I can't leave the township. Sigh. The good part is that it's sunny, even though it's cold. Tomorrow, however, a cold front will move through, and the storm, Bella, is supposed to leave us with lots of rain, high winds, and a red alert along the coast, with waves topping at ten meters. The weather for the next week is supposed to remain cold, with sun chased by cold rain showers, snow on the higher mountains, with the wind coming straight from the cold, damp Arctic. Typical winter weather.

Yesterday was a peaceful, and tranquilly boring day. Yet, not boring in the sense of wishing the day to end, go to bed, and start anew the next morning. Rather, it was a comforting boredom of contentment. Get up late, feed the starving cats, open the few presents, clean up a bit the clutter from the night before, and start with the next stomach-stuffing meal. Then, an afternoon in the warm kitchen, television on for noise, and simple conversations without hashing the world to rights. 

Simple pleasures that we can still partake of in these times. So we didn't get together with my in-laws to eat. We still visited yesterday morning, and chatter a little bit. We video called a brother of my husband's who lives in Mallorca, and probably wouldn't have come for the holidays, though he would have sent his daughters. Another brother came by in the afternoon, because they relaxed the restrictions between townships to allow family visits yesterday. It wasn't necessary to gather round a crowded table for hours to be together or have it feel like Christmas. I liked our eating alone. We did things our way. 

In fact, it was the first Christmas since we married, twenty-six years ago, that we ate Christmas Eve supper alone. When we were married, we ate with my parents. Then, after my mother died, with my father, and sometimes we took him to my in-law's. Then, with my in-laws. It took a pandemic to be able to celebrate on our own. It's fine sharing the day, but it's also fine just by ourselves.

We can make our own joy.

Life continues.