le fin de Noel

Don't you think there should be a song for this? There is that one from Christmas Eve on Sesame Street -- about keeping Christmas with you all through the year, but it doesn't quite convey the sentiment of a very real ending. For me le fin de Noel came today and it was a bit of a jolt.

There was a sudden shift in weather overnight. Already when leaving my daughter's house last night I had to use the ice scraper on the windshield. By this morning, there's snow on the ground. Not a lot mind you, but the wind gusts are blowing it into mounds that suddenly grow to be higher than your snow shoes. 

Henry is ecstatic!

My beautiful, spirited pup. In a sweater once again.

 

I am so glad doggie daycare opens up again today. He'll love the romp in their fenced play area. 

But first -- breakfast. A wee one for me, as I'll be piling it in during brunch. Somehow when I prepare meals for the ten or eleven of us, I either eat too little or too much. Brunch leans toward the too much end of the continuum. So many great things to munch on with a milky coffee! So, just a light snack in the early morning.

 

 

 

I linger for just a few minutes with Henry...

And then I ask him -- Henry, do you want to go to doggie daycare?

Does he ever! He's by the door in a flash, jumping up at me to express his joy, scratching my face in the process. I don't care -- I love my pup's exuberance!

After dropping him off, I pop into Clasen's bakery to pick up some bread product for the brunch at the Edge. As some may know, this is a tradition that I have loved with all my heart for a long time now: the two young families coming over to my place (wherever that may be!) for brunch before everyone returns to their home and their everyday.  In the past, I've been ambitious, baking and cooking up dishes that required time and thought. Shakshukas, frittatas, snack cakes, muffins. These days, I simply pile on a variety of known favorites. Breads, croissants, and soft pretzels, bacon and eggs, salmon and lots and lots of fruits. And the sweet stuff -- my stollen, the panettone yeast cake with cherries from Eataly, gingerbread hearts from Poland (thank you, Bee!), Hearts moons and stars and sugared cookies from Clasens, and yes, I still had the fruit pâtes that I had purchased back in France for Thanksgiving, except there had been no brunch that weekend, because the snow had cancelled out half the family for me.

 

 

The younger family comes over first, because we have saved the gift exchange for this morning.

 

Can you believe my sweatshirt? Henry, embroidered from a photo!

When all five kids are here, they sequester themselves in the play/guest room. They have formed a cousins club and they are forever planning its future activities.

 

 

 

For brunch I decided to create a kids table, and to have the rest of us eat on our laps or side tables. More room, more movement, more fun to watch the younger set engage in games, sneaking more treats as if we weren't there to remind them that those come after the savory foods.

It is a glorious day! Absolutely wonderful, all the more so since at the Edge, the kitchen is part of the living room space, so I never have to let go of their conversation, their stories, their teasing when I prepare the foods.

 

They leave. I dont rush to tidy up. I need an hour to sit and think about it all. The love. The beauty of every moment. The worries that were ill founded, the joys that were often unexpected. 

Typically I don't suffer a post Christmas letdown. So often I've been relieved that "we pulled it off!" There would be the contentment of having the added memories in my storehouse of the best of the best. But this year it seems Christmas preparation lasted longer, was more intense, and then, too, there was Henry -- a new presence to bring into the holiday fold. And so as dusk set in, I kept coming back to this -- I can't believe that tomorrow, the holidays, the days with my pack of kids and grandkids would be... well, done. I see the Madison family often, and I see the Chicago family on a regular basis, year round. But the times when I have them in the same place, at the same time, are more rare. I'm fine with that. I'm lucky enough that we live as close as we do to each other. Though when a gathering of the whole lot of them comes to an end, I let go of a wistful sigh.

 

I pick up a tired but loud Henry. Every stranger gets to hear his woof. It's okay -- you were quiet when you needed to be quiet. We'll rest together, my boy. Hop up and put your head on my lap. There we go...

with so much love...