Christmas Is Coming

Christmas has always been my favorite time of year, as far back as I can remember. I think I inherited the feeling from my mother, who always made Christmastime (the whole month of December really) special, with decorations all through the house, candles, Christmas lights on the garage, carols on repeat, and the smells of an assortment of goodies baking in the oven and cooking on the stove. I would lie under our fresh cut Christmas tree as a child, gazing at the lights and ornaments and soaking up the peace and warmth of home and the holiday. Even as an adult, it's always been a priority for me to be home with my parents for Christmas. Because of travel risks associated with the pandemic, this will be the first year I haven't been there. 

I've been trying to make Christmas in my own way now. We bought a pretty nice artificial tree when we bought our house a few years ago, and it always comes out the weekend after Thanksgiving, before the leftovers are even gone. That and a wreath on the front door has been the extent of our decorating in the past, but this year my mom sent some of her decorations, and she sent me my old Christmas stocking and a new, handmade stocking for our son, to decorate our fireplace mantle along with my wife's. I've been spending the evenings after work cuddling with our son on the couch by the tree and singing softly along to classic Christmas carols, thinking about how I want to make the season as bright for him as it was for me growing up, and marveling at my mother.

We had our first thanksgiving on our own this year, but my wife's parents will be driving back for Christmas. It's good to keep the grandparents house occupied with grandparents, so I have no objections to that. Apparently my father in law was telling my wife that he didn't think he would be willing to move out here permanently because he didn't like being around all the Democrats here (including us, I guess), and that was frustrating to hear, given the lengths we've gone to to make a place for them in our lives. But maybe his bias can be overcome in time, and if not, my parents can use the space or we can sell it and free up the cash flow. 

But I'm now letting that twinge go. Our son is snoozing in my arms, the dog is curled up at my side, the music is soothing, and it's about time for bed. I might brew a cup of gingerbread herbal tea and turn in. Now if only we could wake up to fresh snow...