saints and songs and gingerbread

I have watched the Nobel Banquet on TV and found inspiration among princes and sages.

I have loved the darkest time of the year, loved by nobody else, because it is so intense in its darkness. I have walked in rain and snow and eaten too much chocolate and it's not even Christmas yet.

This is December, when memories and a craving for ancient traditions tumble over me. I want to sing of tidings of comfort and joy and wonder as I wander. I want to see a saint with a crown of candles walk into a dark room. I want to hear hymns echo under high vaults and burst into tears. I want the smell of gingerbread and the taste of clementines and the love of people and gods.

I want to sing out loud, courageously as when I was six years old and surprised everyone by singing a solo about lighting a candle in a lonely house. I want to sleep for hours in my mother's house.