Family

My dad lives in Florida, in a wonderful community surrounded by kind people. He’s near family and enjoys all sorts of sunshine-y activities. I’m happy he’s happy but…I miss him.

While there isn’t one day of the year when I don’t wish he were closer, I especially miss him at Christmastime. I think that’s normal, don’t you?

The lights on our tree in the family room came from Dad. There’s a little music box attached to the lights, and carols play while the lights flash. We usually have them set to stay constantly lit, without flashing or music, but last night I couldn’t resist. I twisted the dial and brought the music and lights to life. For a long time I sat and watched the tree…and I remembered.

“Hark the Herald Angels” made me laugh aloud as I recalled a young me standing beside my brother at midnight Mass and singing—at the tops of our voices, mind you—“Hark, the hairy angels sing…”

“I’ll Have a Blue Christmas” almost made me cry, because of course it made me miss Dad even more.

Given the status of the gargantuan snowman across the street, “Frosty” brought howls from both Hubby and I.

The little music box played all its songs at least three times before I couldn’t take it any more. I picked up the phone, called Florida and asked Dad if he wasn’t sure he didn’t want to give up his nice, warm holiday in favor of a frigid, white one. My father’s a smart guy; he laughed and politely turned me down but hey, you can’t blame a girl for trying, can you?

I love it that things as simple as lights and music can shrink miles and bring hearts closer. What, if anything, provokes nostalgia in your home during the holiday season?

If I close my eyes, I can still hear my brother’s voice singing about those hairy angels…