Two o'clock in the morning. Just came home from a dinner reunion of friends from university. We enjoyed a lovely dinner, and cherished each other's company next to a warm open fire. Outside, the land froze.
It sudden became very cold, the cold of a winter before talk of global warming began. The kind of cold that clears your lungs as you breathe in deeply, because it is so fresh and so very fragile. So cold that the dense fog condensed on barren branches of giant trees and turned them into frost coated towers that glisten under the yellow hue of the street lights. Grass put on a white wintry layer, as shrubs and bushes wrapped themselves with white tinsels.
Christmas is just around the corner, and the new year is waiting to be ushered in. After work tomorrow, I will be taking the long seven hours train journey, leaving home to go see my family in France. Leaving this house I live in with my brother, who is supposed to be the closest family I have for thousands for kilometers, but with whom I have no contact or communication at all. Needing to go somewhere else where I feel warmth and love, where I feel warmed and loved.
It's sad, in a way... that I can't enjoy the holiday season in my own home, and that I feel like escaping this place whenever I have the chance. But I feel rewarded and grateful, that I have friends and a baby boy who will be happy to see and receive me. Christmas, this season of gratitute and of love and care is magical see through the eyes of a young one.
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