Marissa Lingen (mrissa) wrote,
Marissa Lingen

Pre-Solstice Walnuts

It was dark when I woke up, and now, an hour and a half later, it's still dark. And will be for another hour or more from when I start writing this, I think. I didn't mean to start a tradition of eating walnut potica for breakfast the days leading up to the Solstice, but here we are all the same: it's been four years, and everyone knows that two years makes a tradition. And the pastry and the walnuts and the honey are all so golden it just feels like it glows on its own when I slice it. Around Christmas we start having homemade breakfast foods that are family traditions, but the few days before Solstice became my own tiny festivals of light in the quiet, dark mornings by myself. I've trained my brain to make symbolism out of things, but sometimes the things present themselves and say, very quietly, "Me, please. I would like to endure against darkness with you," and well, do you turn away the kind of ally that comes stuffed with ground walnuts? I don't. (Which is not exactly how we got a timprov -- that had more to do with Edgar Rice Burroughs novels -- but I digress.)

Pockets of quiet didn't used to be important to me in the holidays, but then I didn't used to do much of anything to make the holidays. Kids mostly don't. I bought everybody presents out of my allowance, and I helped trim the tree and bake cookies when my mom said it was time. These days, I'm still not serving Christmas Eve smorgasbord or Christmas dinner at my house, but somehow there are dozens of tasks that seem better done by me than not done at all, and so the quiet dark mornings matter more. Even if they are mostly fueling periods to get on with the day to come.
Tags: holiday cheer and thumping, summer is a foreign country

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