(Maria, in her Creative Hive)

Tomorrow is the Winter Solstice, the shortest day, the longest night, a big day for me. The day marks the official beginning of winter, but it also marks the end of the dark days of November and December.

Starting Monday, the days will start to get longer again, and the Winter Pasture replaces the weeks of gloom and darkness. I love winter. Snow and wind are different from Dark Days. I am a prisoner of Color and Light, the Dark Days affect me.

I value my special Therapy Light, the Mayo Clinic, among others, claim it has a great impact on mood and focus when it gets dark.

I feel better today, stronger. I can always tell by how much on fire I am to write, and I am on fire to write today. We went to see Maria’s mother this morning, the only time of the year when I see her.

I was touched and pleased to see that Maria and her mother seem to have reached a loving and easy accommodation with each other, we took Maria (her mother’s name also) out to a diner for breakfast – she lives a couple of hours away – and the conversation flowed easily.

There was little of the tension and pull I felt before when we visited.

I was excited to meet Maria’s family at first.  I went to some holiday dinners and felt just as invisible as Maria did.

I thought I was getting a family in my life again, a new and better one. That did not work out. I was looking for family, but Maria’s family was not looking for someone like me.

Once I agreed to do some readings in their kid’s schools, they were done with me.

I actually felt at those gatherings what she felt – like I was not even there. For someone like me, that is not usual.

So I don’t see them at all, or hear from them, except for the Christmas visit to Maria the Mom.  Mother Maria always gives me an envelope with some money. Today was different.

The two Marias and I  all seem to be on the same script these days, we no longer leave with sinking stomachs.

It was polite, comfortable but also somewhat sad. Maria and I are orphans in many ways, and we both miss the idea of family in our lives.

At the same time, we have found the richest kind of family in one another, and in some good friends, even the animals. There are lots of ways to find family. I sometimes think Maria’s true siblings are the trees in the woods.

We both know how lucky we are.

Maria has come so far in dealing with this very painful issue of family.

She didn’t run away, as I did, or storm off.

She stays in touch with her mother, but no longer gives pieces of herself away to anyone in her family.

It is simpler for me. My parents are dead, I never speak with my brother, my sister lives by herself out in the country. We rarely see one another.

Maria has had a different experience with family, her struggles are ongoing and fresh.

I think, finally, her mother is okay with where things are. She has a large and doting family around her.

Maria is also at ease. It took a long time and a lot of pain.

It was nice, even powerful, to see Maria and her mother coming to terms with another, if not completely comfortable. My guess is that is as good as it will get.

We sat in the diner and chatted like normal people, if not really like family. We are all careful with one another. There are lots of taboos and hot buttons.

Maria’s morther even talked with me a bit and was welcoming. I get that I am somewhat of an alien to them, I am sorry about that.

Christmas is a sacred holiday in Maria’s family, and not for religious reasons. Skipping it is an earthquake, almost unimaginable. You’re either all in or all out. There is nothing in the middle.

I think the family knows by now that Maria will not be spending any more Christmases with them, and has accepted that. They just pretend she no longer exists.

Maria is in touch with her sister and her mother –  the rest, the nieces and nephews, a brother, have all vanished. None of them have ever visited us our farm, I have never been invited to their homes.

I am used to making people uncomfortable, but this was new ground for me.

Maria has grown strong and is comfortable in her own skin and with her own life. She has cast aside guilt and self-doubt and done what she needs to do to live her own life.

We both know that family can be a cult as well as a blessing, a sorrow as well as a joy.

In Maria’s family, the children never grow up and leave. They stay behind to take care of their parents and do their duty.

In my family, the kids fled as soon as possible and ran for their lives. The last thing I ever wanted from Emma was for her to craft her life around taking care of me or even living in the same place.

I’d like to be closer to my granddaughter, but she is where she should be, and I am where I should be.

Em and I have had our struggles, but nothing has made me happier or prouder than to see her living her own independent life, free of guilt or obligation to me. What I want is for her to take good care of herself and her daughter, not of me.

For Maria, this was a long and painful struggle with guilt and uncertainty.   I saw firsthand how being with her family transformed her.

She seemed to shrink and vanish before my eyes, I barely recognized her. I see how she has changed, how her life has deepened in meaning and independence.

Breaking away from those suffocating holidays and rituals and obligations was the beginning of liberation and meaning for her.

I believe love and work are powerful healers, and Maria has become someone who is proud of her life and will never again give it away.

I’ve learned a lot too. I’ve started talking to the trees.