In the TR household, there is today the keen understanding that it’s the last holiday season we’ll spend away from Pittsburgh. As usual, a lot of our gifts are charming Pittsburgh-oriented media or clothing – three new WQED Pittsburgh History Series DVDs (the fourth of the 4-DVD deal went to my parents), Steeler gear for both of us, the kind-of-sweet Steely McBeam picture book for The Nephew.
For the first time, I’m not so annoyed by the lack of snow, hot cocoa, or crackling fires. Before this year, this was when the barely-healing wounds would crack open and sting as I imagined skating at PPG Place, visiting the Nationality Rooms, or marveling at my crazy neighbors and their yard displays. But I’ve found this winter that there is no better ointment for those wounds than the simple knowledge that their time is limited. It’s easier to accept a non-optimal situation when the end of it is in sight.
I wouldn’t say I’ve reached some sort of Zen-like peace with the idea of walking out on the porch on December 25th and not seeing my breath nor my red maples laden with snow. I certainly haven’t developed an immunity to the longing for a stroll along the Allegheny watching the chunks of ice lurch by and the downtown lights blink on, but it’s more okay than it was this time last year.
Warm up the fire for me, I’ll be home soon.