. . .

somewhere around midnight, watching emma in her spot on the couch (she fell asleep waiting for eric and i couldn’t bring myself to move her. there are, after all, only so many nights a year when a kid can sleep in front of the tree…), it really started to feel like christmas. my whole perspective shifted.

the gifts are bought and under the tree. my cards all went in the mail, even if they don’t arrive quite on time. only time will tell if i can really sing well by 5pm (and midnight. and the 25th), but i’m steaming and honey+bourbon-ing in ample doses. we’re spending the evening with dear friends; the daytime will be family time, run-around time, relaxing time, final-touches-on-the-details time, and open-a-few-gifts time. also: there will be dancing, and cookie-baking, and laughter. it’s inevitable.

we’re leaving for the Indiana Christmas Road Trip on saturday morning, but packing is a distant line item in my mind. today and tomorrow i just want to be present. to catch that infectious excitement of children who really Believe. to revel in the community of loved ones we have so close, even as we’re missing the ones far away. to smile at strangers on the street. to give lots of hugs and hold hands and take pictures and remember these moments as precious and amazing.

happy christmas to you, dear friends. may it be merry and bright.
xoxo

. . .

[a very quick list: five things i love, christmas edition]

~ those old christmas records my mom has with angelic children’s choirs and julie andrews and barbra streisand singing the christmas classics

~ the stillness in the church during the midnight mass, just after everyone finishes singing silent night but before they blow out the candles. it’s a group pause, a collected moment of calm

~ miracle on 34th street, one of my top-ten favorite movies.

~ wearing a santa hat, then forgetting about it until you look in the mirror

~ getting to this point in the year and feeling like you’ve really made it. in the soft light of the christmas tree, every memory seems like a perfect one.

. . .