Sunday, December 25, 2022

With the Dawn of Redeeming Grace

What does one eat on Christmas day when spending it alone?  I decided to treat the meal like a Last Supper of sorts. What would I want to eat as my last dying meal, say if I was being electrocuted the next day.  A death row dinner wish if you will.  I worked the nights before and would work the days after, in retail, so I was feeling put upon by life.  Yet I was also very much wanting to feel that spirit, the over flowing of love and connectedness one does on these holy days.  I made loaded oatmeal cookies with chili and cinnamon, nuts and chocolate chips. Obviously!  Spaghetti with meat sauce because I happen to love it and it was already made and I bought the real Parmesan for the baby Jesus. But for a twist, I made real fried chicken, something I never do.  I used a quick and easy recipe from Marion's Kitchen.  That's a girl who loves her fried chicken and has a bunch of amazing ways to prepare it!  
One benefit of being the sole party goer of your holiday revelry is you are free to go through all the emotions, out loud.  I taped up the Christmas cards on my door, carefully eyeing the penmanship and curves of the ink from family and friends.  I played Holiday records and danced around.  I put on Holiday comedy movies and laughed out loud.  I received several family group photos on text, which made me cry and miss everyone.  I lit candles and dimmed the lights, drank lots of hot tea, showered. Then finally sat and listened to the night.  Just like the stories, even in Brooklyn, not a creature was heard stirring, except the subway trains and sirens, an occasional base thump from a car waiting at the light.  It really was a relatively silent night.  A beautiful, quiet, blessed night.  Except the crunch of fried chicken from the light of the open fridge in the wee hours but other than that, pretty silent. 

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