Christmas is coming

We were walking in the woods this late afternoon, through dry cypress. Since the good rain on the weekend, the ferns are plump and the palmettos shiny. Little Lola, the miniature dachshund was doing her utmost to plow through smilax and keep up the pace.

Just after dawn the pastures and open places were rimed with the first frost of the winter, but now as we scoot under fences and step over fallen logs we shed layers of clothing. I love this Florida winter with its little bites of cold. At bedtime you find those old slippers and flannel pajamas and pile on the quilts. And of course, you still keep all the windows open so you can hear the owls and coyotes and the first bird songs celebrating the new day.

Christmas is coming. No one will be here for it. There is no Christmas tree nor decorations except for a wonderfully fragrant wreath on the front door. Our far-flung children will be celebrating the holiday with their own traditions. Our local child and grandchild will be celebrating with us in her own house. Tomorrow, we'll go out with little Quincy, who's three, and get a small tree to decorate for his house. We'll take our bags of gifts and the giant present of a new bed for Quincy made especially for him by his grandpa. We'll have a wonderful Christmas Eve supper of all the traditional things. We'll spend some time stuffing the stockings, all alike, except for the individual names and hand-knitted by an old friend, with practical and fanciful items.

Somehow, all the old traditions need to be respected, whatever the circumstances. I remember one Christmas when my brother and I, both college students, could not afford to go home across the country to spend Christmas with our parents. We decided to celebrate anyway. My brother's Jewish roommates had long decamped. We went out at the last minute and bought the last tired tiny Charley Brown tree and installed it in my brother's funky New York apartment. We decorated it somehow with the tiny colorful boxes (full of folded $5 bills) our mom had sent. We cooked ourselves a Christmas dinner and then slept soundly on the smelly student beds.

Another Christmas, many decades later, we were in London in a flat with our three children and my husband's mother. The boys were in college, and our daughter was ten years old. We did get the required Christmas tree - again, the last tree on the lot. We made decorations out of newspapers. We decided that each person in the family could spend five pounds on presents for everyone, and we all went in a team to Harrod's to shop. I have no memory of the gifts (they were small!), but they were totally satisfactory. That was a wonderful Christmas.

And there have been far too many Christmases with incredible numbers of family members coming to the ranch from far places and presents spreading grotesquely in every direction from beneath the giant tree groaning from the freight of the ornaments.

Neither Andy or I have much investment in the religious or secular aspect of Christmas; I have done the requisite shopping and sending. (I am not a grinch!)

But, this year, our Christmas will be low key. We are still reeling from family problems of the sort many families have. We are raw, but we prevail, always optimistic and glad to have our friends and family. This is the best gift of all.