It is very early morning here in perpetually gray Port Townsend. I just turned off the outside Christmas lights, well, at least half of them; left on last evening in a show of pure decadence. All through my childhood and well into my adult years. Christmas lights were never, ever left on overnight.

The Christmas tree, a noble spruce, way more noble than just in name, stands like an early holiday sentinel in the living room waiting for the storm that is Jacob to decorate it. I love the smell of a fresh tree but this year, I am enjoying the scent with just a hint of melancholy. In just a couple of short years, Jacob, my youngest child, my sweet last baby boy, will be leaving home for his adult adventures of college, work, travel and girls. There will be no one championing for a live tree, no young long, long arms to drape it in lights and ornaments. Change is in the air. I know it is an old song to sing but, time moves so quickly.

Knitting projects fill my basket by my leather chair all waiting to be finished as holiday gifts and stocking stuffers. Will I make it to the finish line? I don't know but however close I may come, each stitch was knit with love and thought of the person it was meant for. No more am I going to beat myself up for not finishing a project and Christmas can happen any day I give one of these finished gifts to someone who holds a close, close spot in my heart.

Anyhow, my warm bed and sleeping husband are softly calling to me and I think I will head on down the hallway and see if I can drift off to sleep in a land where children never leave you and your knitting is always done.