right now, i'm so thankful for that crazy elf that i can't even say. my heart and mind have been so mired in friday's events in connecticut that all the christmas spirit that i'd tried desperately to flame into existence this year was extinguished completely. somehow, christmas music seems all wrong, and planning festivities seems so inappropriate. "heartbroken" doesn't seem quite right for what this is. neither does "furious" or "horrified." i look at my sweet little girl, born in 2005 like so many of the victims, and i can't even begin to put myself in the shoes of so many families.
and yet, you keep going. you have to. and you create yet another magical morning for that little girl who so looks forward to it, and who cannot wait to hop out of bed in the morning to see where snowflake landed.
christmas will come. it will be different - at least for parents - but christmas will come.
and so will snowflake.
on the 11th, snowflake sat atop the most relevant word of the season: believe.
we all need belief. in faith. in magic. in hope. in love. in goodness. in peace. without the belief that those things are possible, the worst elements in this world will win.
on the 12th, snowflake and gray kitty sent harp on her way with a little mudroom encouragement:
friday night, after henry's swim meet, harper asked if she could make her own bed of pillows and blankets on the floor of her room and sleep there. we said yes, and snowflake apparently needed to be snuggled nearby ... just out of reach of harper's feet so she wouldn't accidentally be kicked, but close enough to feel safe. on the morning of the 15th, harper found her elf there as soon as she awoke:
this morning, harper had to look all over before finally finding snowflake and gray kitty in the basement. they had been busy overnight, decorating a small tinsel tree that is in the tv room, and putting together a paper chain. (a paper chain that fell apart in numerous links all night long. apparently, it's been so long since i used scrapbook adhesive that it just wasn't sticky anymore. poor snowflake.)
and tonight snowflake will fly somewhere else, and do something else that will delight harper in the morning. and then harp will eat some pancakes, brush her teeth, and hop on a bus for her last monday of school in 2012, where they will talk about building gingerbread houses on thursday, and pajama day on friday. and all of the teachers will look at those eager, trusting, beautiful faces, knowing that a "normal day in elementary school" will never be "normal" again.