Our Christmas

I suppose I should report on my Christmas, eh? Blogs are supposed to be personal journals, and I sometimes get so caught up in the little essays and what not that I forget to journalize a bit.

Well, Christmas, what can I say? My daughter (eldest) has a birthday on Dec. 24, as does my brother. I normally participate in the music on Dec. 24 in some way, but because my daughter is working now, I decided not to. There was so little time to actually mark her birthday as it is, and my group's scheduled time would have interfered with that. So we rushed to church to see my younger daughter in the pageant. She was an angel, and read the intentions after in a loud clear voice, that made me realize her adult voice is starting to come in. It shook me to realize I have no little kids left. I miss 'em! At any rate, it was nice to just be in the congregation for a change. It is a lot harder to absorb the liturgy when you are part of it.

After church, we rushed out to meet my elder daughter at the pub she chose. Here in Ontario, the legal drinking age is 19, so there was no question it had to be a pub! We had to order all our food at once, when we got there (including dessert), because the kitchen was due to close at 7 PM. We ate, she opened presents, I took pictures, and then, instead of a birthday cake, she blew out a flaming sambuca!

We got out and on the road to get up to the cottage. It snowed - it always does December 24, always. My wife was exhausted from staying up late and wrapping presents, but she kept her spirits up. We finally got there about 11 PM. My brother in law was sitting in his chair, wearing a red old-fashioned nightshirt and green-suspendered pants. He looked for all the world like Saint Nick taking a break at home!

My younger daughter was fascinated by the preparations, and helped me stuff my wife's stocking. You see, she's never seen this before. It was not until shortly after last Christmas that we broke to her the news about Santa. Since I'm Catholic with slightly Byzantine sensibilities, it was probably a little easier to break for my wife and I than in some households - Saint Nicholas is a revered figure, a bishop known for his tender giving nature to his flock in ancient Turkey. It was easy for her to transition to the Saint Nicholas of Byzantine icons from the Saint Nicholas of gaudy Coke cans. ;-)

At any rate, the fact that she'd never seen this before was a very rare treat for me. It has been a long time since I got to see my daughters do big "firsts" - first steps, first words, you know. To see my daughter stuffing stockings for the first time reminded me of what a happy time it was to see so much newness.

After pulling out the guitar and singing Christmas carols and "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" a few times, I went to bed about one. When I was a kid, my brother and I lay awake excited all night, beginning to pester my parents to get up from about 6 AM onward.

Thank God my kids never picked up this habit. ;-)

Someone, not sure who, maybe even the dog, got us up about 8 AM. We went downstairs and opened our stockings. We wrap every single thing that goes into the stockings, so this takes a while. My brother in law held up well - this was, I'm sure, one of the saddest moments, but Christmas is never completely without joy, never. Then we got into the presents, and outside, the sunlight beamed in like it was summer. Made for some great shots on my camera.

I got to play Santa, retrieving everyone their gifts from the tree. I got a little confused with that, but I think I did OK. After some time enjoying our present-opening, which was enthusiastically assisted by more than one dog, I phoned my brother to wish him a belated Happy Birthday. We'd meant to swing by the house, but the timing just had not worked the day before. It was by now about 11 AM, and when I phoned him, they had just started opening presents. I asked him why so late, knowing the likely answer. And I was right - they had gotten good and plastered the night before, and the much merriment led to a late start Christmas morning. :-)

I phoned my parents. There was a certain sadness in that call - they miss us, we miss them, as they winter in Florida. The people they shared Christmas with in the past decided to stop coming in time for Christmas, and it was just the two of them. Still, it was good to talk to them. I have many happy memories of Christmas in our home, and to talk to them always brings me back to those days. My memories of childhood Christmases or more vivid than any other recollection.

And that afternoon, we played golf on the lake. Little of the snow had settled on the lake surface, it was sunny - it was perfect Ice golfing weather.

Late that night, after a delicious Christmas dinner that my wife's older sister prepared, I took my younger daughter out for a walk. Everyone else, you see, was bloated and near asleep. We walked onto the lake, sliding around on the ice. The moon was full, and with a white, white world to reflect the moonlight, it was nearly as bright as the day. As we walked back along snow, I looked down and saw my shadow.

"I'm being followed by a moon-shadow," I thought, as Cat Steven's song went through my head. Maybe a night like this had inspired him to write the song. Over the next few days, we golfed some more, ate some more, worked on things, walked some more.

In the snow, or in leaves of fall, or in buds of spring, or the flying motor-boats of summer - life journeys on.