I stir the sticky rum sauce for steamed Christmas pudding.  One of the last vestiges of the Christmas traditions yet to be savoured, after a generous slice of savoury meat pie with cranberry preserves.  It is Boxing Day.  And all too soon, it will be over.  The food, festivities and family get-togethers.  All good things must come to an end.  And so too must this.  Bringing Christmas 2012 to a close.  Bringing an end to all that has been anticipated and hoped for.

Another chapter in our lives, through.

And with it, this too shall pass: family gathered round the table for rousing games of Scribblish.  The newest silly family game played by young and young-at-heart.  Moments  continue to tick by.  What I wish: for time to just slow down.    For it is time that we crave the most.  It is our truest Christmas wish.  To have more time.   Time is a most valuable resource.  It is that which affords moments whereby a mug of steaming Christmas latte sprinkled with nutmeg can be savoured.  That which allows for moments spent gazing at the twinkling lights of earthy pine.  Which allows for inhaling heady scents of Christmas baking mingled with candles burning.  For feeling the warmth of flames a-glow.  For taking opportunities to visit with family and friends without the need to rush.  With time, one no longer has pressing schedules to adhere to, a stop watch ticking out the seconds.  There is time to spend.

And yet.  All too soon boxes will be packed away and new places found for books and games and other Christmas novelties acquired.  It will soon all be over, and reality will once again stare us straight in the eye.  And with Christmas over, must the feelings of warmth and light and joy slip away as quietly as a shadow on snowy white lawn in late winter?

Such a pile-up of emotions.  Joy, exhaustion, anxiety, fear mingled with hope.  Waiting for a brand new year.  One moment looking back to what has been, while the next moment is spent looking forward to what is to come.  This feeling , the after-Christmas blues is as familiar to some as a well-worn parka.  A feeling of deja-vous.   For we’ve been here before, and for certain we will embrace this emotion again.  If we are given the breath and life to celebrate another Christmas.   The years pass quickly and time melts moments into hours, then days, weeks, months and years.  And before one knows it, time has fooled us again.

One is left wondering:  where has the time gone in such a hurry?

Is the secret to slowing time down found in slowing down ourselves?  I circle the pot with my spoon, licking hot, buttery liquid as I go.  I dump the empty pot into sudsy soap bubbles to be washed, wiped and stored away.  And I listen to the noise in the background.  Happy sounds of people not in a rush.  People who have time.  Even if but for this small moment.  And I delight in the time that I am holding, as if it were a delicate ornament made of glass.  Memorizing this moment as if it were the very last.