Almost Christmas

It's almost Christmas.

11 minutes away.

And its quiet.

The lights glow over the fireplace from my mother's small Christmas village each building with a tea light flickering inside.
The tree glows 4 colors: Red, green. Blue, yellow.
The presents glisten under the tree in their glossy paper with shiny bows.

It's being to look like Christmas.


This evening, as the snow began to fall down in large chunks, Mom and I headed out to the hot tub, envisioning ski resorts with sub-zero temps and toasty hot tubs.

With our hats on to keep our ears warm, and hunching our shoulders down so that we wouldn't have frostbitten collarbones, we sat in the steamy water and thought, "This isn't so great after all."

Snow fell in our eyes. Our noses turned red from the bitter cold temperatures. Our towels were covered in thick layers of snow.

It was wonderful.

I am finally starting to understand that my family is like no other. We do not go to Christmas Eve service, or read from Luke on Christmas Eve. We eat tacos for diner, if that's what we've decided we wanted. We might listen to a few Christmas songs, but I have yet to see "The Christmas Story" (although I can quote lines from it, after years of missing the references). My family does things our own way, and if that means freezing in hot tubs on Christmas Eve and waking up at 5 am to open presents, then so be it, because that's how we do things in this family and I wouldn't trade them for the world.

Merry Christmas. May it be filled with strange and delightful family habits.