Where should I begin? (Where does anyone begin?)
This year I’m awash in memories of Christmases past. My three daughters showed up on Sunday to make cookies and help us pick out a tree — just my girls and no boyfriends, which is rare! I always enjoy seeing the whole noisy bunch of them, but it was a joy to see my trio hanging out and talking together. Then — they were gone, leaving a completely naked tree standing in the living room, and a million memories of their younger years bumping around inside my heart. (I decided to feel grateful and happy instead of bereft.)
I’ve also found myself awash in memories of my childhood. For years I’ve wanted to write a Christmas story to share with my family — something about the Port Orford cedar that stood in our front yard. This is me, setting a marker.
And I really, really want you to read this poem, “Christmas Mail,” by the phenomenal Ted Kooser.
Besides, I just spent an hour making one of my favorite quotes pretty so I could share it with a group — and now I can share it with you, too.