Christmas Eve Paella
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
It is two rooms away, waiting for me. The jumbo shrimp and the two pounds of mussels. The boneless chicken and the chicken stock. The short, white rice. The peas. The tomatoes. The white wine. The garlic. The magic golden red elixir, otherwise known as saffron. And in an hour, or maybe two or three, I'll unwrap and chop and marinate and begin preparing our traditional Christmas Eve paella.
Just now, in the dark, I am remembering friends. Those who have met life's hard challenges this year. Those grieving through loss. Those searching for a way to move past. Those living their lives with such grace and pluck that sometimes I cry for the sheer honorability of them, and for the smallness of my concerns set against theirs.
Just now I am remembering: This life of ours. This imperfect mix. This sheen and most essential gloss of Christmas.
