I’m sure it all goes back to the story of an infant born in a manger after his parents were shut out at the local Bed and Breakfast. Didn’t they know how tough it is to get a room during the holidays? I think anyone raised with the traditions of Christmas just naturally chills out, even if the temperature doesn’t fall below 60… This year’s Christmas is being spent with Dad, but I can’t say I remember another. As each page turns, the ghosts of Christmas past dim, like old monochrome Polaroids.
I do remember many Christmas highlights with Mom, and some presents… The fire engine set… Lincoln Logs… A wood burning kit… “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road” and “The Beach Boys Greatest Hits” on vinyl… A tabletop hockey game*… 1995 was a quiet but dark year and I ended up on the naughty list and collected the traditional lump of coal. That was funny and would actually come in handy now given the price of home heating oil…
It’s quiet here in “The Villages.” For one thing, there aren’t many young children in a retirement community. Last night as we walked around the town square before and after dinner, Kyle sang Christmas carols. I joined in and Dad left us just Megan short of a barbershop quartet. That’s what Christmas is about for me. When the silent night is broken only by songs from the heart.
Merry Christmas to you and yours.
* By Isaiah12:2 on Flickr