Last to Leave the Party
by: Billy Collins
In your white dress
you revolved around me
like the moon
and like the earth
I was spinning,
titled back on my own axis.
I always find myself in a weird state around this time in January. While other people have taken down their Christmas lights, stowed away their trees, and stopped watching Jimmy Stewart running down the streets in Bedford Falls in a snow storm, I stubbornly refuse to leave the party.
Yes, my Christmas tree is still the main source of illumination in my living room, and my front porch is the only one in the neighborhood still festooned with decorations and colored lights. Perhaps people walk by my house at night and shake their heads, thinking me lazy. Christmas is still revolving around me in its moon-white dress, and I'm still spinning on my yuletide axis, unwilling to change orbit.
Tonight, there is a blizzard warning from the National Weather Service in effect for my neck of the Upper Peninsula. As with most warnings like this, the predictions are not incredibly specific. Fourteen to 30 inches of snow. Wind gusts of 35 to 50 miles per hour. It could last until 7 p.m. tomorrow night, but there could be an additional six to 12 inches of lake effect snow into Sunday.
Having grown up and lived almost my whole life in the U. P. of Michigan, I'm used to these blizzard fetes that never seem to end. Sort of like Christmas in my house, winter hangs around in its white dress, spinning and dazzling the trees and houses and streets, until well past the time the party is supposed to end.
Tonight, after having dinner with my kids, I headed out into the start of the blizzard to practice music for some church services I have to play this weekend. The winds were just kicking into high gear, but the snow had already been coming down for a couple hours. The streets were a little drifted.
First, I practiced at a Catholic church. When I stepped inside, the thing I noticed immediately was the absence of Christmas decorations. The manger and trees and wreaths had all been raptured into storage, and the flames of candles cast long, flickering shadows on the walls of the bare sanctuary. The party was over. I played through the music, and then I hopped in my car and drove to a Lutheran church. The first thing I noticed when I stepped into the building? All of the Christmas decorations had disappeared. It looked . . . empty. Sad. The party was definitely over. I practiced music and then drove home.
Now, I'm sitting on my couch, typing this post, listening to the blizzard rattle my windows. My Christmas tree is the only light in the living room, and everyone else in the house has gone to bed. It almost feels like December 24th instead of January 12th.
Everyone else has strapped on their 2024 armor. The upcoming presidential election year is going to be long and ugly, and I'm not looking forward to it at all. I prefer silent nights to blizzards.
That's why, for a little while longer anyway, Saint Marty's going to hold onto the holidays and the hope that always accompanies them.
🎄
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