Blessed are they who remember
Reflections from the holiday
A marvelous Christmas was had by all. We spent nine days with my family, and we were surprisingly not tired of each other by the end of it. At least we weren’t tired of them: We had so much help from uncles and aunts and grandparents! The boys were spoiled with affection and truly did not want to leave.
This year especially I found it very healing to be with my family, all of whom I find incredibly fun and compelling. It was also a treat to be with Grace, who we only see once a year, and her lover, Antoine, who charmed everyone with his thoughtfulness and willingness to join the Farson familial chaos.
Even still, we are always grateful for the act of coming home and resettling.
The new year gives the opportunity to reassess routines, especially in the way that we manage our home life. I sometimes question how fruitful it is to set goals, but I like the optimistic attempt nonetheless. I’m eager to read a lot more, watch less TV, walk and garden more, and continue refining various rooms in our home. Guion, for his part, has an ambitious list of domestic resolutions, which include a great deal of poetry reading, thinking, talking, recording, lovemaking, gardening, and cooking, all of which I am extremely here for.
Guion received a book of Jean Valentine’s wild poems for Christmas. He read this one to me yesterday, and the one bit of it I understand I keep thinking about:
Blessed are they who remember
that what they now have they once longed for.
I think of these lines as I look at my small boys, with their wide eyes and their capacious energies; at Guion, and his vast imagination and tirelessness; at our home, which I have wrestled with and continue to do so; at our humble garden, lying dormant.
Sadness still rushes in; hard things still happen. But there is much to remember.
Currently Reading
Burger’s Daughter, Nadine Gordimer
Love.