And so it begins. . . . .
The Holiday Season. As I reflect back on Christmases past, I realize I’ve celebrated in Arizona, Oklahoma, California, Kentucky, Alabama, Tennessee, West Virginia, Texas, and Kansas. Through the years, I’ve had some good Christmases and some not so ideal. All of them have included a tree and too much food.
At least two involved a stomach virus.
One high school holiday included an ice storm at the grandparent’s, and a temper tantrum or two.
My first married Christmas required a visit to an ER in Chico, CA – my husband was the patient, not me.
I’ve encountered family conflicts on Christmas vacations.
I’ve enjoyed holiday office parties thanks to corporate America.
One Christmas was especially memorable because my husband and I were in the process of a marital reconciliation.
I was pregnant with my daughter during the Christmas of 1997.
The Christmas morning of 1999 was especially chilly due to our furnace breaking down.
I remember (not fondly) getting spanked one Christmas day during childhood.
And. . .I can’t forget the 1985 Christmas semi formal in which the girlfriend of my date’s friend showed up with (GASP!) another boy. Needless to say I was taken home early and I believe a fight ensued somewhere in town. . .
I remember the season my parents celebrated their 25th anniversary, and the season they celebrated 40 years together.
The New Year’s of 1998 was celebrated while moving to WV – lots of ice at the Cincinnati airport, luggage misplaced, a 6 month old and a 3 year old, etc.
We ran out of gas one year on the interstate, then ran into a blizzard.
My nephew was born the day after Christmas, my parent’s anniversary, 2007.
And last, but certainly not least, there’s the tale of the “Roll Top Desk Winter”, which only my sister can fully relate to, and I won’t bother trying to explain the details here.
I suppose it’s fun to reflect back and laugh, and almost cry, at the memories, many not mentioned above. And it also brings to mind that each of these memories are a stepping stone that led us here – to the present. To our Life on Lansill Road. And while this address doesn’t house my favorite home of all the years, and despite not hearing the “pitter patter” of little feet anymore but the thump of adult size shoes, and the realization that I don’t have the time or energy to bake all the holiday goodies I have in years past, I can rejoice in all the greatness that is today. And know that Lansill Road was part of the plan from the beginning. God knew, my first married Christmas 19 years ago while I was sitting in that Chico, California, emergency room. Many ups and downs would lead to our Life on Lansill.