Twas a nice enough Christmas, though there’s nothing left of my own family traditions, now lost to me in the fallout of war. Even our Christmas Eve has been changed by the ill health of our sister-in-law’s dad, but we did have a nice big family dinner Christmas Day over there with her family and turkey and ham and enough noise and colored lights to make it a holiday.
Never did find the extension cord to put on the lights on one of the small fake trees I managed to find down the basement. With just my husband and me, and him not being real big on Christmas and my own focus on getting framing done to ensure my customers’ happy Christmas morning, it’s not a holiday of love, peace and enjoyment anymore.
We aren’t big on gifts either, except for a bit of special thoughts put into them. There’s the tasty tidbits and underwear-stuffed stockings, and usually one special gift exchanged. For me, a dainty iris-blue tanzanite and diamond ring. For him, a special gold-edged volume of an old book on classic guns.
Oh yes, and chocolate.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology