Welcome to the first peek into my writer’s window for 2024! It’s late on the 8^th – a week into the New Year already – and my window is still bedecked in sparkly icicle lights, with the Christmas tree still filling the corner where two windows meet. A few years ago, I wrote about undressing the tree like an elegant lady lowering her arms so I could remove her jewels and baubles. It’s not yet time for this grand lady’s undressing so I’m enjoying the trimmings of the holiday season. I hope your 2023 ended softly and your 2024 began with excitement and hope.

I didn’t want this first post to be about resolutions – it’s already been done. I had three pieces that sorta fit together, but I kept running out of thread as I tried to sew them up … until I read E. B. White’s quote. One word in the quote brought the pieces together. Can you guess which one?

The first moment I wanted to share was how I spent New Year’s Eve. My sister is a very minority owner of a great little pub, Pub House 123, in our hometown. She and two co-organizers had worked miracles putting together a NYE celebration that included a pickle drop – Galion’s answer to New York’s glittery ball – and an amazing live band, Acoustic Tequilla. Hubby and I decided late Saturday to make the drive to Ohio and surprise her. So, after Saturday evening mass, we tossed a few things into our bags, making sure to include hats, gloves, and scarves, grabbed an ice scraper for the car windows, and headed out early Sunday morning. We arrived in time to check into our hotel, shower, and make it up to the pub for the band’s first song. This is a picture of my sister when she sees me. I think the surprise was a success.

So was the rest of the evening; the music was lively and had everyone singing, several were dancing, lots of laughter, lots of hugs as people home for the holidays stopped in and ran into old friends. As we waited for the midnight drop, it began to snow big wet flakes. By the time we all gathered outside, snow covered the cars and was still dancing down, as if testing the air and wind direction for the pickle’s three-story descent. There was a small-town, ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ sense while we sang a poor rendition of Auld Lang Syne in the falling snow, had photo ops with the five-foot pickle now safely on the sidewalk, and people sought out my sister like George Baily thanking her for the fun welcome to 2024.

The following morning was another scrap I wanted to sew into this post. New Year’s Day is First Day Hike in SC state parks and Hubby and I have participated for several years. Galion’s greenway, still covered in pristine snowfall, worked for this year’s First Day Hike. Much has been written about snow’s ability to quiet the earth, quiet our own inner restlessness. It was quiet that morning, like being figurines in a snow globe. After the exuberance of the NYE’s festivities, our New Year’s Day walk was the needed counterpoint before driving home.

We were gone less than 72 hours and so worth the trip.

Thursday was the first day life seemed back to normal as our Grands came for their weekly playday. Part of the day was spent outside blowing bubbles in the chilly air. Because of the cooler temps, the bubbles didn’t float away so quickly or drift so high and didn’t pop so soon. The glee on these little boys’ faces from this new knowledge had me reaching for my camera. Instead of karate kicking or punching the bubble ‘aliens’ or ‘germs’, the game became how gingerly to catch the bubbles as they dropped into their mittened hands, and how long could they hold them until they popped. We go through bottles and bottles of bubbles in our house, but this time was different. The bubbles’ iridescence and colors were brighter, and the beauty of the orbs stayed with us longer. Even though summer bubbles are more fragile, these were experienced and handled with more awe and delicacy.

Have you thought of which word in the quote made me stop and think? Before I tell you, here’s the rest of the story. When I first read the quote I read, ‘Always look out for the moments of wonder.’ It wasn’t until I looked it up that I realized I’d misread it. It’s not moments of wonder, it’s the presence of wonder. Presence made all the difference.

Presence sounds weightier, more solid. It’s as if wonder isn’t merely our reaction to something – like unexpectedly seeing a loved one’s face or being in awe of new snow’s beauty – wonder is its own element surrounding us, waiting for us to notice.  I thought about how easy it is to forget to look.

My hope for all of us this year as daily life and the turmoil and chaos of an election swirl around us, is that we remember there’s also the presence of wonder that permeates the air around us. May we always be on the lookout for it, catch it with both hands, and celebrate it. Happy 2024 everyone.