Or Christmas Eve, at the very least.
I know I've been kind of quiet on the blog lately. Not really sure why.
Not too much to say? Or not enough time to say it? A little of both, I suppose.
And then there's the fact that this month has been tinged with sadness and melancholy for me. Which is a step up from last month, I suppose. When there was only pain and hurt.
The girls don't seem anywhere near as excited for Christmas as they usually are. They were much more excited just to be out of school for two weeks. I asked the Kit Kat what was up with that and she told me that knowing for sure there is no Santa (as opposed to her merely suspecting it but not really wanting to know) takes a lot of the fun out of it. I know what she's saying. But I still find it sad.
Still, we are all here. The four of us. Back from the Christmas Eve service. In our brightly-lit house. With our beautiful tree. I love Christmas trees. I like to turn out all the lights and just sit and stare at it, letting my mind wander.
Tomorrow close friends will join for us for dinner. After a breakfast of the Kit Kat's yummy French toast and bacon. And despite the fact that they are, indeed, growing up, something tells me there will still be some excited squeals coming from underneath the tree (too) early in the morning.
In the meantime, I have gifts to finish wrapping and arranging under the tree. And stockings to stuff. But, alas, not until they all are off to bed. Which, teenagers though they may be, won't happen until we are read The Night Before Christmas.
A childhood friend of my husband's gave him the book as a Christmas present when I was expecting the Blue Jay. He said it was a Christmas tradition in his family to read it to his two young boys every Christmas Eve before bed. And so it has become our tradition, too. Except now, instead of us reading it to them, they read it to us.
But when they are all snuggled in their beds (with visions of I-Pods, books and new clothes dancing in their heads), there will be time for me to have a drink. Or two. And raise my glass to those I love, both those that are with me (or soon will be) and those that no longer are. And to my good friends, who make my life richer. Who laugh with me through the good times and hold my hand in the bad.
And so it is that I will leave you with one my favourite Christmas songs.
Merry Christmas to you, then. And to all, a good night.