It was an odd Christmas, this year, remarkable for what was absent: At George's grandmother's, the usual houseful of overnight Christmas Eve guests; at mine, my parents. (!)
But it was, nonetheless, a lovely little respite from "real live"—this magical time with twinkling lights and children's laughter and a spirit of goodness and kindness and joy that sometimes seems missing as the world goes about its daily spin.
And family. We live far away, again, for better or for worse, and we crave this time spent with so much of our family: parents, yes, and grandparents and siblings, but also aunts and uncles and cousins and nieces and nephews, gathered together in one place for a few precious hours each year.
(My parents made it, eventually. They stayed in Massachusetts, laid low with a horrible flu, on Christmas Eve, and Christmas Day, and Boxing Day still, but were finally able to visit the day after. The children, of course, didn't much mind the delay; it meant more gifts to open on still another day, and the chance to watch March of the Wooden Soldiers yet again, not to mention a little unexpected time, all to themselves, with Grammie and Pop-pop.)
Hoping your holiday was merry and bright...
