Christmas Eve at my brother’s beautiful house. For decades, we were alone up here, all of both our families states and states away. But then G’s sister and brother moved here, and my brother. Suddenly – family! My brother explained to my father, way back down there in Texas, that it was time Dad came up here – an offer that could not be refused. So here he is. And with him, the beautiful M (who will be leaving for a five month internship at Pixar in another week) and his lovely friend Laura (who will be left behind just like the rest of us). Oh, and Mike’s wee dog.
The beautiful Lorena, whose this year’s accomplishment was the losing of – was it 89 pounds? More? She looks fab. And she still cooks like a dream.
The dog. On the back of the couch. She (he) was almost stolen by my brother-in-law earlier this year. Wouldn’t have been hard to smuggle her (him) out in a pocket.
Laura and Chaz
Chaz, a little blurry, but beautiful.
Dad. Not blurry, not beautiful, but downright handsome. And still a rascal at 88.
Every Christmas morning, we’d have the kids sit on the stairs until we were all set up downstairs. Only two kids left now. One wearing plaids and stripes, the other pink owls. There may be reasons why they’re still with us.
Exploring the stockings. The poor, not very full stockings. (At this age, it’s hard to come up with fifty cent stocking stuffers.)
Eating those healthful Christmas breakfast treats – like sugared walnuts or chocolate truffles. The table looks like it holds a feast, but really it’s all gifts from friends and neighbors, ribbons, small boxes, jars of jam, baskets of tiny treats.
The tree.
The father prepares an actual breakfast. Not our traditional one with round, crisply fried potatoes and sweet rolls, but an abbreviated one with cracked wheat cereal and sausage and eggs.
Cam and L come with the kids. We push the furniture, circling the tree. We open their presents first, as they have tiny time bombs, and only a little while till naps.
The wonderful present Rachel made me – beads, felt, embroidery, birds with wild tails – does it get any better?
Bad dogs. They broke into a vicious sibling war over a bone and scared the baby and worried Scooter and resulted in a half hour of kennel time – then this. Leashes on Christmas morning.
Someone left the room. Maybe they will drop raw steaks on the floor and not notice. Dang leashes.
Scooter, with his magic wand and his horsie.
Magic wands are so – magic.
And last of all, Andy engages M in conversation. But something is askew.
She really wants them to meet each other eye to eye.
Which is harder than it looks.
plop.
After the small ones were bundled off home to nap, the rest of our day was quiet and simple. Quiet and happy and full of surprises and gratitude. And really, really naughty food.
I hope your Christmas morning was sweet. Every time ours is, I’m amazed and grateful. Bless you all, and happy New Year!!
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