Well, it's happening. My grand European adventure is drawing to a close. I will be home Wednesday evening. And yes -- I am pitifully behind on my travel posts. This is why I'll never be a professional writer -- although, if someone were to decide to give me money for the nonsense I spew out, I probably could pony up with a post fairly regularly. Couldn't vouch for the consistent quality though. :)
Thanksgiving has just happened, and just like last year, I find my blessings far too numerous to count. Like the stars. My family and friends, first and last and always. Strangers I meet along the way, who sometimes even become friends. My (mostly) healthy body. And recently, blue-domed white churches and an archipelago encompassing over 3,000 islands.
But Thanksgiving is over, and it's late November. And, with absolutely no irony intended, it's about to be The Most Wonderful Time of the Year. As you (may) know, I missed Christmas at home last year, in favor of a unique and wonderful Japanese Military Christmas with my sister and BiL in Okinawa. But this year, this year I'll be back with the Christmas Mouse. And I intend to do Christmas at Home justice... from a Christmas Eve walk around the neighborhood to look at all the lights, to vodka crans at breakfast the next morning.
And then there is this.
I remember so clearly the first time my father read us this story on Christmas Eve. It was years ago now, and I was so very Too Cool for School and didn't want any part of it, but it drew me in anyway. Every year since then (except for I think one year), my Dad has read this story to the family on Christmas Eve night, as a fire burned in the fireplace and we sipped hot chocolate or apple cider or mulled wine. Sometimes he would get choked up at the end and pass it to one of us to finish.
Last year, with me and Eve and Brad in Okinawa, Mom and Dad called us on skype and he read us the story over webcam. This year we'll do the same thing, only I'll be on the other side of the camera.
With that very long lead-in -- I've decided to try and do something a little different leading up to this Christmas. There are several texts, stories long or short, poems, songs that I've come to associate particularly with this holiday. Some have very much to do with the topic of Christmas, others, not so much.
Periodically throughout the next few weeks leading up to December 25, I'll share with you one text or similar that has particular meaning for me during this time. I probably should save the best for last, but... I've never been good at waiting.
With that quite loquacious ado, here is a link for Truman Capote's "A Christmas Memory". Cherished in my heart and in the hearts of my family. I can't read it without hearing my Dad's voice speaking the words, his pauses, his inflections. In exactly one month I'll hear it again.
"Buddy, the wind is blowing."
Thanksgiving has just happened, and just like last year, I find my blessings far too numerous to count. Like the stars. My family and friends, first and last and always. Strangers I meet along the way, who sometimes even become friends. My (mostly) healthy body. And recently, blue-domed white churches and an archipelago encompassing over 3,000 islands.
But Thanksgiving is over, and it's late November. And, with absolutely no irony intended, it's about to be The Most Wonderful Time of the Year. As you (may) know, I missed Christmas at home last year, in favor of a unique and wonderful Japanese Military Christmas with my sister and BiL in Okinawa. But this year, this year I'll be back with the Christmas Mouse. And I intend to do Christmas at Home justice... from a Christmas Eve walk around the neighborhood to look at all the lights, to vodka crans at breakfast the next morning.
And then there is this.
I remember so clearly the first time my father read us this story on Christmas Eve. It was years ago now, and I was so very Too Cool for School and didn't want any part of it, but it drew me in anyway. Every year since then (except for I think one year), my Dad has read this story to the family on Christmas Eve night, as a fire burned in the fireplace and we sipped hot chocolate or apple cider or mulled wine. Sometimes he would get choked up at the end and pass it to one of us to finish.
Last year, with me and Eve and Brad in Okinawa, Mom and Dad called us on skype and he read us the story over webcam. This year we'll do the same thing, only I'll be on the other side of the camera.
With that very long lead-in -- I've decided to try and do something a little different leading up to this Christmas. There are several texts, stories long or short, poems, songs that I've come to associate particularly with this holiday. Some have very much to do with the topic of Christmas, others, not so much.
Periodically throughout the next few weeks leading up to December 25, I'll share with you one text or similar that has particular meaning for me during this time. I probably should save the best for last, but... I've never been good at waiting.
With that quite loquacious ado, here is a link for Truman Capote's "A Christmas Memory". Cherished in my heart and in the hearts of my family. I can't read it without hearing my Dad's voice speaking the words, his pauses, his inflections. In exactly one month I'll hear it again.
"Buddy, the wind is blowing."
What a great story; I read the whole thing.
ReplyDelete"beyond the kitchen with its views of a sky that stops." Ahhh the happy tears. Gets me every time. I love our family!!
ReplyDelete