Tucked over behind the electric grid, underneath the bridge that would take you from downtown Dallas to Kessler, was a curio shop brimming with trinkets. The second room to the left, after entering the store, was chock full of vintage Christmas ornaments grouped beautifully by color. I remember an entire table of eggshell blue ornaments on one side of the room, and on the other, a display of dusty pinks and gold, and that precise moment when that became one of my favorite color combinations. I spent hours wandering the shop and more hours picking through the holiday treasures of that little room.
Those small windows of time that go unnoticed in the overall flurry of a day; the ones that seem to happen between that which I should do and that which I want to do, between that which is expected and that which is not. I find these pockets are where, if I am aware and present, the universe tends to me. It is where the lightness of life resides - where kindness appears like the sunburst that shines for just a moment through the smallest window of my room.
The light is fading. The damp sea air cloyingly envelops me as I stand in front of the christmas tree on the deserted beach.
It was a small space located between Newberry's and the bank, the small local bank in the days before all the mergers. It was where the brass ensemble would play outside in the cold winter air while our small town went about their Christmas shopping. The cold mouthpiece of the French horn as the mouthpiece met my lip and the frigid bell as I slid my hand inside. Perhaps that is why this night, Hospitality night in our small village, brings me such joy and pleasure. It is the continuum of who I was to who I am and the knowledge that as much as things change, they are often still the same.
The deep blue of the twilight sky reflected back towards my lens from the mullions that frame the windows facing the horizon line of the southwestern sky.
It's arguably the night I love most in our little village, the one where all the town comes out to celebrate Santa's arrival, to listen to the music of our people, choirs of kids, a chatter of friends, carols of the season. As the approach to the holiday season begins, so does my enthusiasm for this night, little changed in all the years we have lived in this place of endless summer.