Remembering Christmas | Eastern North Carolina Now

    Publisher's note: Please join me in welcoming Author Michele Rhem, who presents us with her poignant memoirs of the Rabbit Patch, where her diaries weave tales of a simpler, expressive life lost to many, but gathered together in her most familiar environs - the Rabbit Patch.

    It was snowing at the early service, this morning. It did not last long, and only could be considered a dusting, but the chance to watch it fall, was not short on beauty. Snow is so very rare here, in the south, that we must be content with even the most brief episodes of it. The winter trees were especially pretty, with snow on their branches. By, ten am, the snow had turned to sleet, which is a messy affair. Cash and Christopher Robin did not linger when they went out. Cash did run around the yard and seemed to enjoy it for a moment. Christopher Robin was not the least impressed and seemed disgusted altogether.

    Christmas passed and left behind some beautiful memories. One of my favorites, was playing music with Brant and Christian. Lyla had a small trashcan, we converted to a drum - and she almost stole the show.

    We always go to my parents on Christmas night for a light meal and to exchange gifts. I mixed up some name tags, and Mama opened a sketch pad and crayons, meant for Lyla. Daddy opened earrings. Mama was as scared of the sketch pad, as Daddy was of the earrings, so we all got a laugh. The weather changed from mild to a cold, known only to winter, as we dined on our familiar Christmas fare . It was quite a shock to walk out from the warm house, full of chatter, into a frigid, still, "Silent Night".

    Everyone went home yesterday, and in their absence, the rabbit patch seemed especially quiet and almost somber. I kept myself busy by taking down wreaths and removing the precious ornaments from the tree. I did not put away the china, for true to its' name, "Winter Greetings" - it is perfectly appropriate for use til February. The pattern is full of ribbons and redbirds and this year, I was given two new pieces. I wrapped the remnants of a pound cake and the last bit of gingerbread. I put a new pot in the cupboard and took one out, as I adhered to my own rule made, during the "cleansing" in July.

    I took my sweet time restoring order. Every year, I tend to mope about for a while, when everyone goes home. For years, I out and out cried, the minute they pulled out of the drive. I would wave cheerfully and blow kisses . . and then go in and cry aloud. Now, though, I miss them awfully bad, I do not resort to such drastic measures. It took me a long time to make peace with this part of my journey, but thankfully, and at last, I have.

    Mostly, the Christmas closet is once again the "keeper of all things Christmas". I did leave a snowman here and there, but the Christmas books are back on the shelf. Tomorrow, I hope to finish painting the living room.

    Thursday

    A bright and cold morning has dawned. It does not feel like a Thursday-it does not feel like any day in particular. It just seems like some day, after Christmas. The sky is mostly clear and is a gentle shade of blue. There are a few streaks of thin stratus clouds. The air is still as it has ever been . It is also quiet. . .so am I. I can not feel hurried under such conditions.

    I have a few tasks to complete-and the living room is one of them. Tomorrow, I leave for Elizabeth City, and so I must pack for that. (in my new luggage) I ought to cook things to take with me, also, as Jennys' kitchen is still being remodeled.

    Of course, the beginning of a new year is at hand. I have never been one to celebrate the new year with great fanfare. I celebrate it quietly, as the event puts me in a reflective mood. I do not make specific, lofty resolutions, as some do, as I lack the fortitude to carry them out. I will simply remind myself, of what really matters to me, what I truly value and set out to make those things priorities. It is a long and thorough process -and does not require fancy clothes or a loud party. It is mostly between me and God. In some way, to me every day is the start of a new year. I am not against parties to celebrate a new year or fireworks-but, instead, think we should all act as we are inspired to do so. What a shame it would be, if every one lit a candle, as I do, and there were no displays of fireworks, to unite the world, in celebration.

    For now, I will be glad for this day and its' details. I love ordinary days, when the sun shines on the rabbit patch,- and Christopher Robin and Cash doze in the light of sunbeams, by the "morning table". This day is worth celebrating, too.