It was the long day to disappear. Leaving the latch fastened, the blinds drawn and all that was undone, simply undone. Padding around in toasty slippers on this second day of the New Year…a tired mingling of the old and new. Piles of ribbons, discarded chocolate bling-a-lings and bits and pieces…we find ourselves back at the beginning of the strand.

The air is thick with memories of gingerbread and peppermint soaps, winter fig candles and eggnog coffee. The season of hibernation beckons, come and stay indoors just a bit longer and relish the frozen silence…as quiet musical chords drift languidly out over frozen New York ground.

The afternoon stirs and stretches…heating up with lemon tea, shrimp and garlic and the tangy promise of an old Merlot. The plow comes and goes…others will work today as we linger in notebooks, novels and lists…for we are in no hurry to take apart the carefully woven joys of December…for an untried and snow covered path.

We revel in this strange in-between time…the twenty-four hours of neither here nor there…for the old ways and days are gone and the cracked door is not yet fully opened…not yet flung wide with frosted portals. This is a snowflake day…no hurry, no flurry, just carved silence. The mail is not yet delivered and the cupboards are full. We eat from the larder and avoid the television. No news is good news.

We rest curled up in the longest of cords, a woven rope of memories of Christmas past, stacked boxes and crispy pies…gifts from the apple porch stuffed with all things good…fruity orbs delivered long ago in peck baskets.

The cold creeps in under the door. It is the season of whites; robes and towels, snow drifts and pearls, soaps and doves…ice and white leather. January drains all the reds and greens with a bitter wind…and twining twisting continues from the womb, winding around countless trees and snow mounds and in and out of seasons, and cake plates and cookie tins and porch doors.

We follow, must follow the pearls out the iced portal…but tomorrow, tomorrow and tomorrow…not today. For today is the snowflake day and we surround ourselves with memories, candles and ginger stillness. It is cold and we ready ourselves for what lies ahead…basking in the final strains of Celtic music and Spanish guitar wafting out over crystal barren plains and the breath on the window pane…on a frozen New York day.

On this New Year’s day…’Wait! What happened?’ He’s staring incredulously at the living room window. I remain silent and continue searching for slices of leftover pizza buried deep in the back of the refrigerator. ‘What did you do? Something is different. What’s different?’ I turn around.

‘Oh look, more chocolate!’ I point to the large platter sitting heavily on the counter. I have begun the annual purge of chocolate, candy canes, cookies, Little Debbie’s Christmas tree brownies…whatever keeps spilling out and over after almost two full months of carbohydrate and sugary crunch buildup. I hope to distract him. It’s a no-go.

‘You changed the curtains’. He gasps with the realization. ‘You changed the curtains!’ I glance vaguely in the general direction of the living room. ‘Um…yes, I did. I changed the curtains’. Silence. I continue. ‘I’ve been wanting to lift the heaviness of those purple drapes. Look, there is just a hint of lavender in those. They encourage the wall colors; lavender and light grey. They…are…well, they are encouraging colors. What a grand way to enter a new year!’

He turns down his lip to pout and declares, ‘Well, we’ve lost all our privacy. We’ve lost it!’ ‘No, no we have not’ I counter. ‘With the cream linen shade pulled it’s just as private as before’. He shakes his head mournfully. ‘We’ve lost the darkness. You’ll see’.

I turn back toward the fridge. I sigh. ‘We live where we live. Our entire climate could be described as ‘grey’ or ‘dark’ for a significant amount of time from…November until March, actually’. He shakes his head again. I respond, ‘I can only light so many candles in one winter time’. I sigh again. This is my big counter argument for changing the curtains? I’m losing my footing in this discussion. He turns away from the window and stares sorrowfully at the heap of chocolate detritus lying hither and yon on the kitchen counter. ‘But, but you didn’t tell me. You didn’t ask me. I told you what I was doing with the curtains upstairs in my study’.

I pull my head back out of the fridge. I’ve managed to locate two slices of mushroom pizza and I’ve latched on to a bottle of expired milk and a container of old eggnog. I head for the sink; rinsing the plastic and placing them in recycling where they plunk with a tired groan. ‘Exactly. You didn’t ask me either. You just declared your study a dark zone and poof…up went the navy black-out curtains; it’s a cave. I have to take a flashlight with me if I’m trying to locate you to give you your mail!’ He answers, ‘I need darkness to think’. I point to the living room window. ‘Look, it’s getting dark again. Time to think! We’ve had our 15 minutes of sunshine, popped a Vitamin D capsule and it’s time to settle back down into blankets, hot tea…and…apparently chocolate’. I look out at the gathering New Year gloom. ‘You’re going to be fine. You’ll have enough darkness for the next three months and we’ve got beautiful new curtains’. Silence. ‘With a hint of lavender. Encouraging’. I add this last hopeful word. He looks at the counter. ‘Oh look, chocolate!’

I think we’ll be fine and I put my head back into the refrigerator shelving.