In case you haven’t noticed, Christmas is coming. All the winter holidays are coming, and we can’t even escape. Usually by this time I've made a trip to Walmart, off the island of course, and purchased plenty of wrapping paper, tape, pajama pants, toothbrushes, and Hershey Kisses to stuff at least ten stockings. This year, we opted to spend our reserves going to Maine in October, a decision I thought we might regret come December. But I don’t really regret it. My children are what I would call “grown-assed kids” now, and I don’t worry about the stuff under the tree as much. Unfortunately for them. I still love Christmas though. It’s not even about presents, although my grown-assed children still gather under the tree Christmas morning. (And I will do everything within my power to see to it that they continue to do this until they reach the age of 72.) There’s just something about it all. The togetherness. The quantity of dip I prepare
This is where the action is. Where hopes and dreams meet harsh realities like middle age, household chores, marriage, cooking, family and friends, raising kids, and keeping the faith on a planet filled with beautiful turmoil.