We had our last Christmas party today. I’m glad it’s over. I’m a bit of a Scrooge and am campaigning for the Holiday to come every third year from now on. Still . . . reflecting over the last few weeks, I recall some lessons, some moments that stand out to hoard in my memory bank.
Anna decorating the house when I was spending the night with Dad in the hospital. Then receiving her text along with a photo of the tree with this message: “Christmas is officially at the Pratt household! And it’ll be here when you get home :) good night love you”
Finding out that grown up kids, 17, 19, and 24, still like hearing their Dad read a story to them on Christmas Eve.
Opening a replacement diamond for the one I lost when we were first married, and appreciating the extravagance after twenty years of investment on the ranch and in the marriage.
Being terribly disappointed when Mark had to go get the feed wagon unstuck when we were starting to open presents – and finding out it didn’t spoil Christmas morning after all.
Receiving a favorite gift from my Manhattan daughter, a used book by Natalie Goldberg, Wild Mind, Living the Writer’s Life and savoring the anticipation of evenings by the woodstove with it in hand.
Finding quiche a fine breakfast for cowboys.
Agonizing over the prime rib, then serving a perfect piece of meat to the family.
Dad, unwilling to navigate to the head table for Christmas dinner with his oxygen tube, sitting with the grandkids instead. Then him, at 91, calling out answers to a rousing game of “catch phrase.”
Christmas is like life, we live it the best we can. Find the joy. Keep it simple. Make it about moments.
|my childhood home - one more Christmas celebration|