The sweet scent of cinnamon and sugar mixed with Christmas music filled the kitchen. I was joyfully singing along to “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” by the window. Just as I was cracking the egg, my voice cracked, and my heart broke as tears spilled into sink.
I stood there peeling egg after egg. Breaking them and pulling back the hard shell.
Sometimes in the midst of such joy and happiness, pain can rush in like a hard punch.
Especially during the holidays, grief and joy mingle and intertwine like the red and white of a candy cane.
A song, a smell, decorations, or a show can send unexpected waves of emotion.
Tears spill with questions, old and new.
Look around. Smell the candle. See the twinkling lights. Hear the laughter and the music. Move.
In the grounding, the wound that bubbled up and festered out of nowhere simmers down a bit.
The light shines through the tears and brings the moment into focus.
The little girl of inside of me is here amid the festivities. She’s safe. She’s not always festive and bubbly but she’s present. Out in the open. In the light. In the truth.
She enters the fullness of the celebration mended… and broken.
She’s welcome. She doesn’t have to hide anymore. She’s no longer numb. No longer frozen. No more fake smiles and empty eyes.
She’s standing holding broken eggs, teary eyed and gazing beyond the kitchen window.
And she’s going to be okay. She’s breathing in new seasons with fresh eyes. Making new memories and even remembering the good.