The only thing constant is change.
Our neighbors are moving out; new neighbors are pulling into the driveway as we speak. I think about moving into a new place the week of Christmas and it makes me shudder. I shake my head at least twice. Who knows why they chose to do that...I know that the now old neighbors wanted to be out by the end of the year...perhaps the new neighbors don't celebrate Christmas...I suppose I'll find out soon enough.
At my husband's SoB Precinct, there's been a few new bosses, a couple of people are being promoted, and therefore moving to other boroughs. They may be better; they may be worse. I guess he'll see soon enough.
Christmas Eve I will have my father come to me. Now that my Stepmother is gone, we've walked into a new tradition; a new normal, at least for now. My Grandmother being gone is also a new normal for me this Holiday Season; one that I've already decided I don't like at all. My Grandmother was Christmas. She made every Holiday bright.
I am reminded of a song made popular by Faith Hill, originally written by Mariah Carey:
My world is changing
Does that mean Christmas changes too?