Tree-mendous Thoughts of Christmas

Its very quiet in our home in these early morning hours of the day before Christmas Eve. I love the quiet, particularly at this time of year when our lives are so full and busy. Willi is sleeping in on the first day of a much needed break. The sun is not up quite yet, either. Soon both will signal the start of another day. I remind myself that each day is like no other. It is easy to let them fly by paying little or no attention to their relevance. This morning I promise myself to look for the joy in the little things.

Willi's mom has flown in from Texas to join us for the holidays. We are soaking up every bit of her while she is here. Yesterday she made a yummy apple cake while we were both at work. When I came home, the wonderful aroma of fresh baked goodies still hung in the air. I made a note to myself, "It is good to have a mom in the house when you come home from a long day at work."

My daughter and her husband are sharing their first Christmas. I remember those years when your holidays are not your own. When families lay their claim, wanting all of your precious minutes to be spent with them. When really what you want so much is to hunker in and make memories of your own. I say a little prayer for them as they try to spread a little of themselves amongst us all. And remind myself not to be pinched when my minutes are few; theirs are young and tender and need room to grow.

Thoughts of Christmases past drift in and out, both bitter and sweet. My mother's dilligent preparation of the thin pastry in which she dropped measured spoonfuls of nut filling to make the mouth-watering Nut Horns we so coveted! The tears my father shed as he sat on the floor of the garage, one of his last Christmases, trying to make the stubborn tree sit straight in the homemade stand, as he had so many times with ease. Shopping with both of them as they selected the "perfect gift" for each other; plaid wool shirts for my dad and Chanel No. 5 for my mom, always the favorites!

I'm thinking about my son. Back in the day, his second grade teacher hosted the usual Christmas party for the students, and moms were invited to join in. After treats were served and the children had performed, we all took some time to enjoy the many examples of student work that had been dutifully posted on the boards and walls. Among them, 8.5 x 11 inch Santas marched around the room in perfect red and white harmony. Mrs. Thompson giggled as she asked me, "Can you guess which one is his?" I began at the first Santa in the row and continued around the room until I found one colored in purple. That was his. I have it tucked away with the Christmas ornaments. He still moves to his own beat. I pray he is healthy and safe.

Willi's children will be coming in tomorrow night, on Christmas Eve. They are growing so quickly and their lives have become so busy. In various stages of high school and beyond, too soon they will be planning Christmases of their own. He is the bridge of generations for his mom and her grandchildren, bringing them together to make some Christmas memories. They have welcomed me into their fold and for that I am grateful. They fill the chairs around the holiday table with warmth and laughter; and it is good.

Willi and I have made a few traditions of our own in the part of our lives we have spent together. Blending our pasts into our present has been interesting and often times a matter of compromise. Gracing our tree, is the angel I made so many years ago sitting atop his cowboy hat. Each of us clings to the paths we have walked; paths that led us to each other and help us appreciate the differences which make us who we are. And make us good together.

Well, the sun is up and the bustle begins. Willi has made a list of the things we need to accomplish in this day that will be too short. We will feast on apple cake, sip some coffee, and move forward toward the celebration that is over so quickly. As I listen to Willi strum and sing "I'll Fly Away", I give thanks. We will have a Merry Christmas. Best wishes for yours to be the same.