Time out of time

New Year's eve was going to be a festive blur for me. One more celebration, not even the capstone, in my holiday season full of occasions which began more than a month ago. Originally we were slated to go to a neighbor's for a kid-friendly party, and that would have been great. These neighbors are much more like family than friends, so we were very much looking forward to the evening with them.

But then there was the wind. I've never heard such gusts - not even during the hurricane that hit the year I was pregnant. And before lunchtime the power went out. It rarely goes out for more than a few hours, so I wasn't worried, even on this cold day. Little did we know it would be out well into the evening.

At first I was irritated that I had to step away from my computer, that I would have to delay my tempo run on the treadmill. Why couldn't this have happened last week when the temperatures were unseasonably warm? Thankfully, we settled into a cozy afternoon as the sunlight poured into the windows all along the south-facing back of the house and into the family room. As the hours passed, the lack of ambient noise seemed less unsettling, and the prospect of postponing the night's party less troubling. JBL and the girls played Scrabble. I (finally) got the laundry folded.

By 4, it was clear our evening plans were scuttled as the light faded in the house and the huge rooms began to chill precipitously. I felt uncharacteristically calm as I scoured the house for candles. This change in scheduled events had temporarily unplugged the buzzing in my brain and tightness in my chest, and I paused.

It occurred to me that I had really absorbed things about the girls this afternoon in ways I hadn't previously this season. Oh, I'd smiled as I juggled winter activities, work, school, holiday preparations, but in a way I was floating above it all rather than living down in the fray. On this last day of the year, I realized K has acquired an adult sense of humor, adding to her already substantial repertoire of charms. I realized that J can sing many Christmas carols on key, and can hum most of the Nutcracker Suite. I realized that my family is happy and enjoying the season as I had hoped but hadn't grasped as I planned, organized and executed.

J skipped circles around me as I positioned candles throughout the kitchen and family room, her new Little Tikes pig flashlight singing out merrily, "Oink oink oink oink OINK!" as she chattered ceaselessly about my progress. JBL lit a roaring fire in the fireplace. The aforementioned [fabulous] neighbors dropped pizza off that they'd picked up from town. By the time we settled down onto our picnic blanket by the fire and darkened Christmas tree, the room sparkled and glittered warmly. I talked about all the noteworthy, happy events for us in 2008, which were numerous. The wine (and ginger ale) flowed, music played softly out of JBL's portable iPod speaker, and laughter floated through the room.

We were toasting mini marshmellows over the fire when the Christmas tree lights flickered, and then lit brightly. I heard the heat kick on, and saw the Tivo and Squeezebox come back to life in the entertainment cabinet. While we were all delighted at the prospect of power back to warm the house while we slept, and to allow full and free use of the bathrooms, there was almost a sigh of disappointment. J turned abruptly to me and asked, "Can we still keep having fun, Momma?"

And we did. Just as I have related in the past, gifts such as this New Year's Eve without power come at unexpected times. They come when we don't even know we need them. We are shown without asking that all the love and joy we need are here for the taking. And I am grateful.

Happy New Year!