The Sun is about to set and it's a little past 4 p.m. here. At least that’s what the phone says. I wouldn’t know as the shortest day of the year is also a miserable one - windy with an overcast sky. Rain coming this evening. A good reminder of what all our winter holidays are all about. It’s not about the presents waiting to be wrapped or the preparations for the New Year’s party. It’s all about surviving the darkest days of the year. We have invented modern celebrations to give new meaning to our primeval fears. As modern educated people we understand seasons and the workings of celestial bodies. In the dawn of days, people didn’t have that kind of knowledge. A friend was telling me she’s had it with these short miserable days, something all of us in the Northern hemisphere can relate to. Yet, we have it easy. For the time being, the light of my screen is enough. Later on I’ll turn on the light and banish the darkness. Let’s spare a moment to think about our ancestors huddling in a cave, hopefully around the fire. Hard to imagine how they managed to survive before they invented fire.
No matter what each of us is celebrating at this time of the year, it’s all about rebirth. The promised rebirth of nature. All we have to do is hold on tight and hope to make it through the dark days. In this, Mother Nature is the central figure. We trust Mother Nature to give us light and green leaves again. It is only fitting that women play a central role in our modern day celebrations.
In the olden days maybe it was the men who brought home the slain mammoth, thus ensuring the survival of the tribe. However, it was the women who preserved the meat and cured the skins for garments.
In Eastern Europe, at this time of the year, women have to get busy cooking and cleaning if they want to call themselves decent homemakers. No one tells you that you must do this or that. It’s something you simply pick up from your elders. The house must be clean to welcome Baby Jesus, the New Year or the light of growing days. You have to show yourself worthy of renewal. The same goes for food. One could easily buy or order all the traditional foods expected to be on the Christmas table, but that would be cheating.
I’m not much of a cook and all my life I’ve depended on my mother to supply the most cherished Christmas dish of ‘sarmale’. Everyone loves them, but no one looks forward to the tedious process of wrapping ground meat in pickled cabbage leaves. A friend of my mother’s offered to make us some, but it’s unacceptable to me. With my mother gone, it is my duty to provide the traditional Christmas meal. My son hates the very idea of cabbage, but he will have to partake. It’s non-negotiable. Before we had refrigerators, people pickled all sorts of legumes for the winter. Before we had supermarkets, people slaughtered pigs for Christmas and had meat for a few weeks at least. (Just as, in spring, they slaughtered lambs. Jesus, the Lamb of God, came much later.)
I’ll also be making a cake we like, but the traditional 'cozonac' (a local type of panettone) is 
This is all the time I can spare on modern pursuits such as posting on the Internet. I need to get cleaning so the next two days can be dedicated to cooking. I’d much rather crawl into my bed with a book, but it feels wrong to even think about it. It’s the darkest night of the year and my role as a mother is to tend to my family.
