Friends, I’m tired.
I’m tired of learning valuable life lessons. I’m tired of having my heart warmed. I’m tired of being forcibly given perspective on what’s really important. I. Am. Tired.
You know the feeling that you have when you sit down on an airport bench in the winter? but you’ve packed a whole ton of things, and you know you’re going to have to hoist yourself up, overladen backpack and purse and suitcase and cane and winter gear and the whole bit, and go slog through the line to even get the suitcase checked? and then you’ll still be stuck with the purse and backpack and cane and winter gear and going through security and waiting to use an official airline shoehorn to fit your knees into the tiny seat area without wrapping them around someone else’s spine through the seatback in front of you? I am not doing that literal thing this December. But it is how I feel about brightness and good cheer right now. I am going to get there. But it sure feels like a lot right now.
(But Doctor, I am the great lussekatter blog post Pagliacci.)
When I write a Santa Lucia post now, I know that even if I’m oblique, even if I’m practically opaque, I will remember what was going on that year anyway. Two years ago I wrote about how cold the dough was, about my beloved tinydog coming for extra loves and reassurance, and I remember that so viscerally, even though today’s dough was a normal temperature and my little dog is gone. And I know that no matter what words I write and no matter what happens after this, I will look back at them and think: we already knew Grandma had cancer then, that was the year we first knew.
But the lussekatter still needed to be made. The tired I have right now is not a muscle tired, it’s a bone weariness, an emotional exhaustion, and this is exactly the sort of thing that’s medicine for that. This year the saffron did not grind basically at all. Not a bit of it. Stubborn threads, and I had to work every inch of gold through that dough, every fragment, first streaking red and then shading out to the proper yellow. And you know what? It tasted just the same as if the saffron had behaved itself. The extra work was necessary but effective. So light the candles, friends, even if you have to break three matches and scorch your fingers to get there. Knead the bread, sing the songs. Time to hoist ourselves up again. We’re the ones who’ll do it for each other, and deep down your heart doesn’t live on an airport bench. Your heart is going to get there. Mine too, as long as we can do it together.
2007: https://mrissa.dreamwidth.org/2007/12/12/ and https://mrissa.dreamwidth.org/502729.html
2006: https://mrissa.dreamwidth.org/380798.html — the post that started it all! Lots more about the process and my own personal lussekatt philosophy here!