Christmas Day 2012

Today I woke up and it was the first time Gregg and I were alone for Christmas morning. No children excitedly lining up in the hall behind a sheet (so they couldn't see what Santa left),no Christmas music, no yule log on the TV. I took a shower and got ready for the day. Then I went to put candy in the stockings (Santa's helper). I had a string of white lights along them and one of the stocking hangers fell and they all came tumbling down with the lights, more like a loud crash! I just started crying. Gregg came running in and helped me put them back up. A few of them were broken, like my heart. The kids came over around 11:30 or 12:00 and then we opened presents. I got some wonderful, thoughtful gifts and loved seeing the faces of my little grand-babies as they opened their presents. The day went well, but I had a terrible headache all last night and today like I'm getting the flu or something. I laid on the bed in the playroom and watched Sienna and Brooklyn play Barbies for a long time. Sienna always wants me in the playroom with her as soon as she comes to our house. So I go, because I know that these moments are precious and lately few. This Christmas day will probably be one of my "lasts". Here is what I mean by that. This is an excerpt from a book... "Today has an endless feel about it, doesn't it? You feel as if you will always be just this age, as if your children will always look just the way they do now... Do you remember when you thought you'd always be in high school? Remember when you couldn't even think beyond being a child in you parent's home? ... it is because time is so fluid that we like to remember firsts in our lifetime. The first child born, the first kiss, the first night spent in the new home, the first day you ever rode a two-wheeler. Your first time at anything announces itself as important. It says, "Remember me. I am full of promise." But just as there are firsts in your life, there are lasts, too-plenty of them. You don't cherish them, and sometimes you don't even realize them for what they are, for your last time at anything doesn't announce itself as the last. But as surely as you breathe, there will be the last time your little boy will come and throw his arms around you to kiss you good night. Tomorrow he'll stride in as a grown man, too dignified for hugs. There'll be the last time your little girl will run through the house scattering dirt and dolls in everyroom. "This is the last time I'm going to tell you to stop it," you shout. And finally that last time really comes, for she becomes too big for dirt or dolls. She, who used to worry if she were separated from you by one aisle in a grocery store, will one day spend her last night sleeping in your house. She will have changed in some minute you didn't even know happened. There'll be a last time the whole family will be together for Christmas. And there will be the last time you look upon your parents' faces...there'll be a last time together.The last times. Life is full of them. The last time you felt the giddy frivolity of youth before responsibility set in. The last time you could fit into your wedding dress or suit. The last time you catch the hand of your mate, and give it an affectionate squeeze, a squeeze that says we can weather it-together. The last night in the home in which you've lived for twenty years. Now, I don't talk about last times to make you sad, but rather to help you realize that life is as transient as a season. Just as you have firsts, you have your lasts. And lasts are not to make you miserable, but to teach you that in a world where all things are fragile, you ought to properly appreciate them. You must handle with care your precious moments with loved ones. You must cherish your hours as unrepeatable. The number of moments for you on earth is finite. The endless stream of questions from your child really has an end, when he has grown to the point that he can satisfy his own curiosity. So love what you love and love it hard. Even though the present seems always upon you, it is hiding a series of last times. In a world where death is a reality, age is inevitable, and children grow up, can you clutch each moment, breathe deeply, and love tenderly?"