Ah Christmas, a time of tradition and of ritual for many people. The traditions and rituals vary by culture and by family. Those of us that celebrate Christmas can be found focusing on our relationships with others during the Holiday Season. Most of us, according to our own beliefs and in our own way, approach the spiritual aspects of life at this time of year. It is a time of emotional intensity which can be joyous or painful or both.
Christmas at our house is a time when we meet with our hopes in our hands. It is miraculous in its simplicity, terrifying in its complexity. Foremost, when Attila, the daughters and I join to celebrate Christmas, we hope that our love for one another will shine through our differences and our problems. The apple pie baked specially for the "Fiancé". The bows carefully made to grace mysteriously wrapped packages. The tradition of homemade mincemeat pie. Gifts received, hats and pajamas and slippers and black socks. All of these things reflect our love for one another.
It is a time when we keenly feel what we have lost. It is a time when those we have lost are most deeply missed. It is a time when unrealized hopes loom large. It is an opportunity to allow the comfort of faith.
Tonight Attila is in the kitchen, transforming the last of the Christmas turkey into soup. "The Teenager" is watching television, with her telephone headset in place as she chats with friends. Are they watching the same program, I wonder? I am tapping away at the keyboard, intent on committing my thoughts to the page. All focused on our own activities, we do not think about the sounds in the background. The sounds that mean we are not alone.
We have enjoyed three days of hearty fare, turkey, dressing, gravy, pies, puddings, chocolates, and a host of other treats. As much as I enjoy these indulgences, enough is enough. Light meals seem very appealing. Tomorrow we will return to our everyday menu.
We have snow. We have more snow that I have ever seen in this part of Ontario. There are small, white mountains piled high along the edges of the roads and walkways. Although the highways and byways have been plowed, inches of snow remain. Walking is difficult. The snow underfoot might be soft and powdery or jagged with lumps of ice. One never knows what the foot will find with each step and maintaining balance becomes a serious occupation.
In spite of the condition of the sidewalks, Attila and I have managed to get out for our walk. The Christmas lights created a festive promenade as we made our way through the cold night air. We were alone, save for a few pedestrians trudging along the uneven paths and laden with packages. I would not want to spend the night out there. The warm lights of home were a welcome sight as I struggled through the last bit of deep snow.
As we came in the door, there in the kitchen before us, "The Teenager" stood in all her glory. A serious chef, attired in pajamas and hat.
|RECIPES :: Cast
The Christmas Hat
By the Easy Chair
by Mark P.O. Moreford and Robert J. Lenardon
Telephones and soup.
On the Screen
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