My mother loved family and friends and all things party. She also knew how to love deeply and generously give both her time and her being, so at Christmas she was our sparkling star, our guiding light, the happiest person in any situation. In my home, we are so glad that she still watches over us all.
As my mother would wish, may you be merry and bright and feel all the joy and goodness possible this holiday season!
Dear President Joseph Robinette Biden,
I hope you are well, and ready to celebrate the upcoming holidays with reverence and joy. Lord knows, you have earned a few family days, in fact, I hope you have several moments when you are not worried about all of us. I am looking forward to a few days like that myself. You see, I’m a high school teacher of English, and I know for sure you understand what that entails, in terms of never being too far removed from your work life. My wish for the both of us is to step away for a minute and rejoice in the wonders of the season.
So, why am I writing you? Well, that’s a simple one to answer. I just want to say thank you. I get the feeling you might not hear those two words enough from people. I must admit, they carry great weight; I know this firsthand. Most days I stand at my classroom door as my high schoolers exit, and we exchange niceties as they move on to their next class, like thank you, or have a great day, or for those headed to play in a basketball game or participate in a musical or theatrical or dance rehearsal, granting a best wishes, best of luck, or some such salutation. At the end of my day, I am the one made richer by all the recognition and gratitude I hear back. But perhaps you don’t get such gracious greetings with such ease. So, thank you, for all you do.
Perhaps this year more than any other, traditions hold greater sentiment, and finding that special Christmas tree to gather around is certainly one for me. While we may be apart this year, all our memories will hold us tight…Enjoy this repost from 2018 when we all did just that… xxoo
There is a cut-your-own tradition in Vermont with Christmas trees. Decades ago when my family first started to have Thanksgiving here, we’d tag our tree during that long weekend. Then, weeks later, we’d head back to the farm, with sled in tow and saw in hand, we’d try to find our special tree. There were years when we’d have to trudge through feet of snow, and on hands and knees, dig our way down to find the trunk. Frozen fingers wrapped around the saw we’d tug back and forth until it was cut through. Oh those fresh trees would fill the house with everything Christmas. Sweet pine. Cold air and snow. Even the mountain view came into our living room with that smell.
Nine Cent Girl 