December in our Den
I lumbered into December heavily this year. A big, fat momma bear, burdened with the care and keeping of her cubs.
We moved slowly through the month, reveling in the light displays, the scents and sounds of the season. Talk of gifts and all the excitement kept the cubs rolling and wrestling with anticipation and each other.
Then, one day, I looked out to find our world wrapped in grey. The mountains had mysteriously disappeared along with my cheer. I tried and tried to keep the inversion at bay. This miserable lead stripe that colors our horizon and buries us in depressing fog. The pollutant threatened to squeeze its way into our home.
Discouragement is as thick and gunky as they come, though it has the peculiar ability to slide into small, unprotected spaces. I threw my hide to the doors, attempting to block it out. There is no room for you here, I explained. The desire to protect my young from the cold that has nothing to do with Utah winters was overwhelming. I do not expect them to see in me a perfect mother, but I do strive to instill opitimism whenever possible.
Just in time, a storm. Blessed snow that scrubbed and chased the inversion from our atmosphere. It left behind very little to show, our white Christmas would be patchy at best. But, the skies were a clear and crisp cerulean that carried on for miles. For me, some hope- in the way of stories, emails and encouraging talks- did the same thing. My air was clear and I could breath again.
Finally, the end was in sight. I hunted, I gathered, I cooked and wrapped. The cubs played and wished and ate and were tucked into their beds with visions of technological sugarplums dancing through their dreams.
Christmas arrived with a bounty. Who said this wouldn't be enough? Simple is king. There were smiles and squeals and happy cubs all around.
When the merriment abated, I made my way slowly to my den. Buried in soft warmth, with papa bear beside me, I slept. For hours and hours. Sweet, relaxed hibernation.
Now, we wait for spring.