I'll be home for Christmas......

For the first time in years, my whole family will be together on Christmas. On December 24, along with a few other " blessed " events, the stars will line up and we will gather to celebrate. For me, this means the 229.9 mile trek up to Ossineke on Wednesday afternoon, which is currently in winter wonderland mode. I bore quickly with the ride, but as we approach, I admit to getting quite excited. Isn't the anticipation one of the best things about anything celebratory? We will arrive on Christmas Eve where everything must be EXACTLY as I remember it to be. We will descend like rock stars with family in the window cheering and waving. (What? No holding up of lighters?) We will drop our coats like like kids upon walking in the door. Shoes will be in a giant, snow melting pile for someone surely to trip over. My Mom will probably organize the mess before anyone trips and takes a header. It will smell positively delicious as something good will already be cooking. Various beverages (wine!) will be chilled and waiting. I may have called from Oscoda (40 miles south) to insure this is handled, as surely I will be PARCHED upon arrival. Lots of scurrying about getting glasses, ice, corkscrews etc. will be happening and everyone will be talking at once--which is normal for us. We will then converge (cocktails in hand) to the living room to admire the tree. Some of us will snoop for gifts. Then upon settling in to our usual spots, someone will tell my Dad to turn down the t.v. so we can hear each other without the aid of microphones or megaphones. Various snacks will prevent us from perishing before dinner is served. (Mom, again!) Someone will get us all a second round. Although we all talk often, we still find plenty to catch up on. And we are forced to find new subjects because talking about each other,when we are all there, is impossible. I will tell Mom her hair looks great, (true) and Dad will tell me that it looks as though I have lost weight. (untrue.) My brother will regale us with tales from the Ford auto sales front and my sister will fill us in on the holiday parties that she hosted at her restaurant. My brother in law, the dentist and chef extraordinaire, will have some recipes of interest for me and maybe some dental triumphs. Dane's beloved dog, Mickey will patrol all areas and make sure to hoover up all dropped "floor derves." Soon it will be dinner time and the table will be set with the Christmas dishes and again, we will sit in our usual places. Mom will say grace and we will demolish the wonderful food. Then, finally, the plate of Christmas cookies will be placed on the table. No matter how stuffed we are, the flavors of the past will come flooding back. My Mom had to hide them from us growing up, or they would never have made it to dessert time. We may have peppermint stick or spumoni ice cream. Eventually, in a tradition as old as time, the men will convene to the living room and the women will clean up the kitchen. At last, Mom, my sister, and I can chat without interruption! In our next lives we want to be men and just walk away from all domestic chores. NOT-we are all girly girls and have long since resigned ourselves to the injustice of it all. Later we might crack some champagne and toast to our fabulous selves. Some of my aunts and uncles may stop by and maybe a card game will start up. Or we will just tell our tales. Invariably my uncle or dad will have ran into an old friend of mine but will be unable to remember their name. I will guess until the mystery is solved. Not much else will happen. Maybe the cookie platter will appear again and I will have just one more. Like most holidays, we all sort of drift off. Christmas day comes early and we will commence again. Mom and I will go to early Mass while everyone else consumes massive amounts of coffee. We will pray for their lost souls. I will try not to cry at the beautiful spirituality of the mass as well as the families dressed in their holiday best, worshiping the reason for the season. Growing up, we would go to midnight mass and there would always be big, soft snowflakes coming down as we exited church. There were beautiful light displays on the way, and my favorite was the yard done in all blue lights. But I digress, as long as the little children do not sing "Away in a Manger," I should be okay. My Dad will make his famous "slumgullion" (a bacon, egg, potato, and onion dish) when we get home, and all will be stuffed once again. My brothers 3 boys will arrive and Christmas can officially begin. The kids truly are the whole fun of the day. We have planned a treasure hunt that they must follow to collect their gifts. This sort of drags the whole thing out and fills them with excitement. There will be moments where you will not be able to hear yourself think. Finally the gift segment of the day is over and we can commence to more food and drink-not necessarily in that order. If my Gramma Iola doesn't make it over, we will go and visit her. I treasure every year that we still have her with us. 94 years young and still hangin' tough. Rumor has it, she has made me my favorite, Norwegian cookies--berlinakrauncers. We will probably reminisce about the old days when we had Christmas Eve at her farm. She will marvel at how many details I can still remember. Then back to Mom and Dad's for yet another feed. Everyone will be crashing around the kitchen trying to get samples before dishes hit the table. Repeat last nights routine. Some one will wonder what time we are shoving off the next day, and we will probably decide on that. The weather will be checked to make sure we are not risking life and limb. In the morning, we will pack up and head out hopefully taking the left over cookies--if any are left. 229.9 miles later we will be home and start in on our own family celebration--a much quieter event. Dane will check to see what damage Lola has done to the tree in our absence. As things wind down, I will reflect on what a great holiday it has been. Nothing changes, really, thank the good Lord. Merry Christmas to all. Peace and Love, xoxoxo