blessings

Welcome to my world: the first work day after Xmas, and there are five men making a huge noise in my house, two cutting planks upstairs and three drilling holes in the basement floor and injecting termite-killing poison. Kevin and I spent half an hour this morning moving furniture away from the walls so they could do so. I have retired to my office and am wearing my expensive Xmas present from my kids, just what I wanted and asked for: Bose noise-cancelling headphones. They may save my life. Literally.

Xmas was, as my daughter said, "the best yet." Maybe it's because, in the chaos of the house, not much could be expected - no tree, few decorations. I had the whole quiet morning to get the turkey in the oven and everything else ready for the meal, and then they burst in, little boys flushed with excitement, parents surviving, Uncle Sam with lots of energy for tossing nephews in the air. It was so mild, he took them outside in the garden to play with their new toys, including Eli's new remote controlled car from his parents and a skateboard from Glamma. He's six, but it's what he wanted.

The meal, like the day, was calm and bright. Sam's friend Max whose parents are in England came to share it with us; we were a small group with a lot of food.

And then they went home! It was a Christmas miracle. I was overjoyed to be alone to clean up and put things away and sink onto the sofa to watch the "Call the Midwife" Xmas special, sat there with tears rolling - I've known no show like it, how deeply we care about all the characters, and how they manage to evoke tears in every episode. It's gorgeous. I went to bed with red eyes.

Yesterday, recovery, and riding my bike - on Dec. 26, with no discomfort! - to visit my friend the writer Isabel Huggan, here from France visiting her family. I got some of my own work done with no workmen in the house, and otherwise did as little as possible.

Now, all systems go, until it all shuts down again for New Year's. I'm still living in the shell of my house, but I'm grateful for a roof, a furnace, a kitchen, and now the sun, shining briefly through my office window and gone again. Grateful for small mercies, and mercies that are not so small.