And to all, a good night

Back home, after a quick trip up to the homestead. Called mom to report my safe return, and she gushed - such a nice xmas, thank-you for coming, the boys had a wonderful time. Not sure why she was so pleased - perhaps because the official script was followed. Her eldest slept under her roof on xmas eve, she had her four children with her, her grand-kids growing strong and sure. By all accounts a low-key holiday, nothing special - some food, some gifting, some chaos, some humor. But exactly right, for our family.

There is a family story. My mother, out on her own, working as a nurse with a good salary, brought gifts for her whole large family. As the eldest girl, she must have been one of the first to break free, and her family was neither rich nor extravagant in terms of giting. Somewhat dour and stern Pennsylvania Germans. So Mom, brought with her a carload full of gifts to her first xmas returning home - perhaps creating the christmas for her siblings that she might have wished for growing up. But the presents were stolen from her car. She was heart-broken - and not a christmas goes by without one of us remembering that story.

Perhaps that early disappointment advised our christmas rites ever since. Do not hope for too much, nor plan too grandly. Gift selflessly and grandly, often too grandly. Even the year that dad lost his job, and was unemployed for many months as money grew tight, when christmas should have been truly humble and small, it was large and grand. Such are the ways of my family.

My family remains clustered around mom - my brothers live in the same town as Mom, within a mile of the last house we all lived in together. My sister moved slightly further afield - but close enough. Only I reached escape velocity - moving a few hours south and west. So to get us all together, I am the keystone - the prodigal child returned. Kill the fatted calf. In years past I have been missing from xmas - a marriage kept me here in CT with my in-laws. A relationship that limited my time north to hours instead of a day or so. But this year, going up alone and free to spend the night, I fulfilled my part in the festivities.

Last night, before my mom and brothers returned from church, I stood and looked at mom's xmas tree. A fake one these days - far less messy than a real one. Small white lights replace the large incandescent bulbs of my youth, and no tinsel, carefully draped strand-by-strand at mom's direction. But the ornament's brought memories. The inexpensive department store bells that are now 40 year antiques. The dimpled ornaments that we called "the golf balls" that my sister and I fought to place. The stuffed elves. And there, near the top of the tree, in front, a cloth Santa Claus ornament with a sticker face, ribbon cuffs and belt, and sparkles, that "daddy made when he was a boy" - must be 60 years old by now. Things change, but there is a thread that runs through christmas that is as old as I am.

I am blessed, truly. Each December, my family calls me back, migrating north for a short visit. We add another memory onto a foundation that goes back many years - each brick similar to the year before, yet each year with some small changes and new variations on the theme.

One of these years, christmas will change. Some unexpected tragedy, perhaps. Or a major life change will drag one of us too far outside the sphere to travel back every year. Or my mom, the hub of our wheel, will leave us. Her chronic health problems have seemed to stabilize in the past decade, so that we forget how close we have been to losing her in the past, and how arbitrary something as simple as her next breath is. We've held her close for a long time. But it just might be the last xmas. You never know.

Tomorrow, back to my life. Some time on a yoga mat. Some time in the office. End of the year stuff. Cleaning and organizing stuff. Trying to untangle the knots of my present life, and plan for my future one. But for now, a chance to live in the past - small mourning for the things that have been lost, gratefulness for those things that have not been lost, and wonder at the things that have come into my life.

Merry Christmas, everyone.....