{"id":5196,"date":"2013-12-31T16:05:39","date_gmt":"2013-12-31T21:05:39","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.silkentent.com\/Trees\/?p=5196"},"modified":"2013-12-31T16:08:37","modified_gmt":"2013-12-31T21:08:37","slug":"the-best-place-to-be-is-here","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.silkentent.com\/Trees\/?p=5196","title":{"rendered":"The Best Place To Be Is Here"},"content":{"rendered":"

December 31, 2013<\/strong><\/span>
\n Tuesday<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

The best place to be is here,<\/em><\/span>
\n at home, the two of us, while<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

others ski or eat out. . .<\/em><\/span>
\n \u00e2\u20ac\u201d Jack Ridl, b. 1944<\/span>
\n American poet<\/span><\/p>\n

\"holi13badge-snowflake\"<\/span><\/a>It is nearly 4:00 in the afternoon of New Year’s Eve as I write this. A post from yesterday, about my attendance at the funeral of a former teacher and mentor, is in draft. As I worked on it, I began to understand that I was still too close to the emotions I felt and the insights I gained during the events to be able to write about them nearly on the fly.<\/span><\/p>\n

I will eventually finish that piece, and post it, between this post and the one that came before. This is my blog, and I can do anything I want with it, inserting, removing, rearranging elements, not unlike what Walt Whitman did with Leaves of Grass<\/em>. But this is the last day of Holidailies, and I want to wrap things up and say thank you to the organizers and see you next year to readers who only stop by during this event. When I read Jack Ridl’s poem, featured today on The Writer’s Almanac<\/span><\/a>,<\/em> as I scrambled to tie up a\u00c2\u00a0 lot of loose ends before dinner, anxiety building about all I have left undone, I knew that I needed to withdraw, gather what I can of my scattered self, and come out anew on the other side.<\/span><\/p>\n

Here the snow will<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

fall through the light over<\/em><\/span>
\n the back door and gather<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

on the steps.<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

We’ve seen two forecasts for our area, one calling for low temperatures and a few flurries, another showing a 3- to 5-inch blanket of snow. There won’t be a moon tonight, and I’m hoping there won’t be a repeat by the church behind our property of the incessant noise, lasting from 9:00 until well past midnight, of their “Crossover Service” last year.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 We will hope<\/em><\/span>
\n our daughter will be safe.<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

She will wonder what<\/em><\/span>
\n the year will bring. Maybe<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

we will say a prayer. <\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

There is no maybe about that. I will be saying a prayer, to the close and holy darkness, bringing to mind everyone I have ever known, everyone I know now, everyone I love. I’ll be wondering what the year will bring for all of us. May it be mostly joy.<\/span><\/p>\n


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