Most years since I had my kid, I try to put together a Christmas/holiday card to send to people so they can see how she’s grown, etc.
I try to also include photos of myself (and, when it was relevant, my husband) because of something Hax said a while ago about “orphans on the mantelpiece” that stuck with me. (See also: “Mom stays in the picture.”)
Some years, I have the wherewithal to put sealing wax on the envelopes. This is one of those years. I’m using a gnome stamp, because garden gnomes are A Thing for me, even though they’re now tinged with sadness.
Started out with the vegan wax, but honestly I don’t think it’s very good and won’t buy any more. I don’t know what makes it vegan; none of this is beeswax.
I stamp the envelopes from the back, so I don’t know who’s getting what color wax. The first wave are all green/vegan wax; after those I switched to purple with mix-ins.
I have a third type of wax, that I got from my mom. She had it in college, and her two stamps are (I think) associated with her sorority. (I did not join it myself, though I did consider it; but it was just not my thing. I joined a different one my junior year.) You can’t use that wax on envelopes that go through the postal system; it’s too brittle and will jam the machines. Modern wax is made differently; it’s safe for postal machines but it doesn’t give that satisfying snapping sound, or really break at all. It only seals and decorates.
I’m also listening to Christmas music. Started out with Mannheim Steamroller, which I love unironically, and then switched to the Robert Shaw Chorale. We Three Kings and Good King Wenceslas both go HARD. When my TKD teacher died, I listened to the bit about “mark my footsteps, good my page; tread thou in them boldly” and BAWLED. In a way, losing him was a preview of losing my father. Same thing when my closest uncle passed away. So because of that, and because of the general mood when it’s dark and cold, I think a lot about death this time of year.
But I also think of renewal. The dead are gone; but we remember them. My little wax sealing candle in 2024 is an echo of all the fires my ancestors have ever burned. I remember them now as others will remember me, down the long centuries. Listen!
- The Shortest Day, Susan Cooper
- The Turning of the Year, Herdman Hills Mangsen
Emilybook 