I’ve taken to walking to Mass; it’s a half-mile from home, uphill most of the way. Joe drives up, meeting me there. He slides into the pew during the first verse of the entrance hymn. We mostly attend morning Mass, but yesterday we decided on the 5:00 pm.
It was mostly dark on my way there, but completely dark on the return home. The moon was half-full, lighting my way past darkened houses, the ones without sensor lights that catch me walking past their properties.
I was reminded of walking to Midnight Mass many years ago with my high school friend, Joanne. I stopped at her house and we walked side-by-side to Corpus Christi Church. It was cold and dark but we had each other. Gradually, almost magically, it began to snow. Not a heavy snow—one in which the flakes caught in her curls. I recall it whenever I walk on a cold, dark night and my heart is warmed.
I continued toward home, wrapping my scarf tighter about my neck, noticing the Christmas lights, the dark houses, and the accompanying moon. I turned into my back drive and found that Joe had left the side porch light on for me. I followed it up the five steps into my warm kitchen.
Author’s Note: I replaced the featured photo with a more appropriate evening shot. (12/2/25)
🥰😍♥️
Thank you, Cousin.
Beautifully said. There is something calming about walking at night. The first house we bought was a 100 year old Victorian. It was so warm and homey. Half a block was our church. Most Holy Rosary in Syracuse, NY it was almost cathedral like. As soon as I walked down our driveway, and turned the corner the church was illuminated with bright but soft lights.
That sounds so beautiful, Jeannine. There is peace in those soft lights. I also love the sound of the church bells. If I hear them when I’m walking to Mass, I know I need to hurry!