I owe you a Christmas letter, possibly two, okay if you include this year, maybe it’s three. Forgive me? Either way, here is a letter, I wouldn’t call it a Christmas letter exactly, it is more of a ‘just now’ letter. It started brewing a little after the New Year when a friend asked me if I had a resolution. I don’t have a New Year’s resolution. A year is a long time. But there is something I’ve been thinking about for a while, mulling really. Life is like glass - a slow-moving liquid you can see through. A billion moments of a life, like the grains of sand that make glass, are forged together to become a molten liquid. In the heat of any moment, life is set. As it cools, it becomes transparent and almost motionless. Clear. All those moments are strung together, merged and inseparable from one another, see through. The heat of it, the heart of it, is now, this molten now. Nothing happens except through time, from one second to the next life unfolds. So what am I doing with this now? With each successive now? Am I in it? Or am I letting it slide by? I’m ruminating on a past fault. I’m glorifying a distant triumph. I’m gnawing on a future. I’m dreaming. Or I’m here. Present. I have a new moment’s resolution. I carry it with me, as best I can from one second to the next. Be here now. Be present now. Like roll call in school. Amy? Present. No looking ahead, no looking behind, just this moment, the one that is right here, right in front of me. This is the best moment of my life. This is the worst moment of my life. This is the only moment of my life. All that came before are done; all that are to come may be; but this is the one I have. This moment. And at this moment ~Jay’s long arms are bent and his hands are drumming against his chest. He is tall and his friendly smile is frequent, his wit quick, marvelous. His drumming hands are like he is; a cadence that changes swiftly, rhythmically, as teenagers do, as he does, becoming grown. ~Ana is long and lean in black lycra. She is studying the atmosphere (not figuratively but truly, in her Earth Science class) and here next to me as I type. There are discarded anime graphic novels on the floor of her room and there is always her joy, never far from her, effervescent in her eyes. ~Henry is intent, knowledgeable in his own esoteric way, chewing on a future that is coming on fast. His amateur status turned pro this year in tutoring. They pay him to teach, to guide others to learning and he has a knack, as if he were called to it, or born to it. ~Eric is laying on the floor playing with our dog Sasha, who hopelessly adores him. The feeling is mutual I assure you. And we are fine.