Stockings…

fireplace

The tree.. the lights….the decorations…perfectly placed from front porch to dining room… each item moved…adjusted…. repositioned… strategically angled… under careful management.  Even then, no placement is final… Wise Men have their superior…Santa is not the only one making lists…checking it twice… And Risvy, our faithful…mischievous…daring Elf… his shenanigans are subject to stringent protocol before lights out..

The Stockings… the stockings are unpacked…one at a time… embroidery perfectly stitched in the trim. … Mom…Dad…

Baker…Annabelle…Aaiden Grei… Aashir Rais…

I do it every season…feel each name…… each memory…  a beautiful story… Our Christmas story…a story that cannot be put into words…. but this family knows the chapters…the theme….can turn immediately to dog-eared pages…. epilogue…acknowledgements…

To borrow some words from Seuss:

And the Grinch, with his Grinch-feet ice cold in the snow,
Stood puzzling and puzzling, how could it be so?
It came without ribbons. It came without tags.
It came without packages, boxes or bags.
And he puzzled and puzzled ’till his puzzler was sore.
Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn’t before.
What if Christmas, he thought, doesn’t come from a store?
What if Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more?

On Christmas morning…when stockings are emptied.. and I listen to the voices…the beautiful voices of this household… I can be found… in a comfortable chair…coffee in hand…. collecting memories…gathering moments… and stuffing them back into these stockings.  There is a Christmas morning somewhere in my future…when I’ll wake with Faranah… and there will no longer be children in the house…. but those stockings…. will be full…perfectly placed…and hanging from our mantle.

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