Time and place

It's the smell of candles. I often wonder what it is that I miss about Christmas so much. Why I am bitter at this time of year once again. It has nothing to do with presents. I love giving presents, don't get me wrong. I'd rather give than receive any day--I feel weird getting presents. I feel like there is an expectation there for a reaction. I know where this comes from. That's a whole different blog.
The point is that I miss the smell of candles, the sight of a Christmas tree softly lit in the dark, the feel of wrapping paper under my hand and the sound of tape as it gets cut. I love the color silver and the one time of year that it is acceptable to incorporate it into the decor. I miss touching all of those ornaments I made when I was six or twelve or even eighteen. I miss the feeling that I am safe and comfortable and surrounded by familiar things. I miss the smell of pine trees. I miss the snow and feeling like you are surrounded by a heavy silence that can only be found when the snow is deep enough to wade in and the night cold enough to shatter your voice.
I miss the songs and the memories, and I miss my family. Sometimes I don't dare to say that for fear that it will seem that I want to go back. I don't. I just miss my family. I miss my mom, and my Aunt Rose, and my crazy, messed-up family. I miss Emma.
So I've lit every candle in the house. Somehow it isn't really doing it for me. I think it's time to find a new tradition...