For the first time in some thirty years I am not in my own home on Christmas morning. In this country, where everyone just packs up and goes, without great fuss or hesitation, this history of staying put must seem a bit quaint and self indulgent. But no. It merely reflects the reality that I store the family ornaments and Christmas is where the ornaments are. Mom’s place is, at the time of holidays, home.
Not so this year. Both daughters have their own homes and one is right here in Madison and so this year, we moved the family Christmas to her place. Which means that the ornaments were schlepped across town to her apartment (and since she has little storage room, they’ll be schlepped back in a few days) and the tree is there and I have the privilege of spending a night under the Christmas tree, or at least on the couch next to it.
I suppose I could have gone home last night and come back early this morning, but cinnamon rolls require oversight, especially if you want to do all but the baking in the late hours of the night, so that in the morning you can have the luxury of merely sticking them in the oven and mixing up the icing.
I listen to the trucks clear the streets outside – all night long they move up and down scraping and sanding and I think how we take for granted the clear roads and the de-iced planes, ready to zip us off to cousin Bertha’s, or wherever the ornaments are for us this year and I wonder if someday I’ll have to stretch and haul myself even greater distances over Christmas. It could be that the ornaments will never again go up on a tree at my place.
On the up side – at least I wont be the one forever vacuuming the tinsel out of odd places all year long,
Wishing you at least some pauses and still moments today... Enjoy the presence of people you love, or your own quiet corner if that’s where you find your peace.