So many memories. Of this time of year. Generations of memories. So many people involved, so many of them now gone from the present. Still remembered, still recalled and savored.
Other memories, too. Of place, smells, temperature, wind and breezes. And food, of course; of course!
The Christmas tree as symbol, reproduced each year in each of the living rooms I have inhabited. Each different but oh, so alike. The needles, the aroma, lights – first big, then smaller, then tiny – and the tinsel or not. Ornaments aplenty. Some themed, others family heirlooms.
As years ticked past, the ornaments and decorations collected over the years were given to the kids, and to parting spouses. And to the trash heap, at least for those unclaimed.
Traditions. Those last the longest. Going to church. Arranging the calendar for gatherings. Noticing the change in social interaction as the season approaches. The music shifts; lyrics mostly, but carols appear everywhere. Public decorations along streets and storefronts; restaurants, too. Everywhere reminders of the Holidays make us notice the time of the Yule.
Our family – wife and kids – built a tradition of Christmas Eve dinner - lasagna, salad, garlic bread and red wine - wood fire crackling in the hearth, Christmas music during dinner, then a good seasonal movie. Later, church with full choir at 11 pm and, afterward, the walk out of the church with luminaria lining the sidewalks and paths. The neighborhoods lit by luminaria, too, all the way back to our home. And finally to bed.
Mom and dad arranged the living room for Christmas morning, put out the fire and prepped for the big day.
Next morning, bright and very early, the Christmas tree was alight, the room darkened, the wood fire started. Coffee was perked and lights kept dim throughout the house. The preparations were ready. The kids giggled down the stairs. Then squeals and oohs and aahs. Peeking and rummaging through the gifts under the tree was a part of the whole experience. And then, discipline allowed one gift to be opened for each child. Then to breakfast and a reminder of what the day ahead means.
Quickly past the egg casserole, pastries and orange juice, we returned to the tree and dwindling fire.
Now for the exciting part of Christmas!
Two hours or so later, exhausted by the attention, expectations, and surprises of what each gift contained, we were left with a mess to tidy up, stretch, and ponder what had just transpired. So much preparation. So much anticipation. So much fun and goodness. And certainly a little bit of disappointment. Things we got that we didn’t want. Things we wanted but didn’t get. And the speedy process spent undoing all the preparations of these moments.
Another Christmas under the belt. Yuletide survived, mostly intact. Happy but melancholy with memories of long ago; and knowing this day would add to the memories for future Christmases.
Sentiments run high at this time of year. Just because age tends to lessen the yuletide activity for some, doesn’t mean they don’t dwell on the meaning of the season.
Take time to pause and remember. Relax and enjoy the wholeness of these precious days. New memories add to the old, they don’t replace them. They refresh our readiness of what lies ahead.
December 24, 2019
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