December 24, 2025
It’s Christmas Eve, and the
world around me is a bit white here and there, but the cold is just about
everywhere.
Our short tree is up, with
lights and bulbs and a few little figurines as well. The older we get the more
we conclude that less really is more.
We had our days of running
around, doing all we could to make sure our children always had the best
Christmas we could give them. We felt compelled because other than their birthdays,
we were rarely ever able to treat them. We did of course surprise them, on a
couple of occasions, and I think that we got a bigger kick out of those times
than our kids did.
I once asked each of them, separately,
if the Christmases of their memories were always good, and I got three
enthusiastically positive responses. That was at the time and is still now, all
these years later, important to me.
I hope it’s important to you,
too.
I remember Christmas mornings
when we needed time, just a bit of time, to make that first pot of coffee, to
get comfortably seated where we could have them all three in our sites as they
entered the room. We’d usually finally get to sleep sometime after three a.m. the
night before and they’d be awake usually somewhere between five and six, so we
needed that minute. Then sip, sigh, and give the “ok” for them to come downstairs
to see what Santa brought to them.
Man, that Santa always brought
just the perfect gifts for them.
Our best gift every Christmas was witnessing their joy.
David always caught a nap later in the day, but I had to produce a huge
breakfast and a large Christmas dinner, so there was no napping for me. Except
for those times when we would go to my in-laws for Christmas dinner. On those
occasions, Mom caught a nap. It was wonderful.
The traditions I grew up with—that
big Christmas breakfast, and the big fat orange in the toe of the stocking were
two of the traditions I grew up with, and the ones I provided for my own children.
And tonight, for the second
time, a new tradition—the lighting of my father’s—our family Christmas candle
during dinner—a soft light flickering from the past, a flame of hope for the
future. A moment to pause, to remember, and to dream.
We wish you all peace, love, and
joy during this season, and in all seasons to come.
Love,
Morgan
http://www.bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury
No comments:
Post a Comment