“Christmas is not as much about opening our presents as opening our hearts.” ― Janice Maeditere
AUBURN, Maine - I can point out the location of every bathroom on the Maine turnpike. That's important for a weary traveler to know after having a cup of coffee.
I really do know every nook and cranny of this well-traveled highway.
Interstate 95 was the avenue I traveled every Christmas Eve to spend Christmas with my relatives in Revere for nearly quarter of a century.
We would spend an entire morning loading the car with presents and food. We sped off down the road for a two-hour trek, listening to Christmas music along the way.
Through the years, we battled snowstorms to reach our destiny. Nothing would stop us from spending the holiday with family.
Was it all worth it. Absolutely! I understand nothing lasts in this life, and every opportunity I got to be with the people I love during the holiday made our two-hour trip feel like two minutes.
But things changed. We brought a wonderful young man into the world, we got older, and people we loved passed away. We bought a house and established our roots in city located about 130 miles north of Boston.
We have been put through the ringer the last three years, with deaths and sickness that made our lives quite difficult. We haven't spent the last three holidays in the Boston area due to these tumultuous moments in our lives.
I was graciously invited to my sisters again for the holiday. She does a good job of entertaining family and guests, and it was kind of her to think of us.
But we remained at home again in the snowy foothills of Maine. My son wanted to wake up in the house on Christmas morning.
He is older and still enjoys our company. We are lucky.
I hope he continues to walk the strait and narrow without losing his balance. But if he falls, mom and dad will be there for him.
That's what parents do, and I like to think we do it well.
This Christmas eve, we continued on with one tradition, revived another, and started a new one.
I made the my mouth-watering shrimp linguine, but something wonderful happened in the kitchen — Anthony volunteered to help. And so we sat, the two of us peeling shrimp and talking about everything.
He worships my cooking and I enjoy watching my family enjoy my culinary talents.
After we had our fill of shrimp and pasta, we went out into the cold, dark night and lit a bunch of sparklers that had been laying around the house. We interrupted the quiet evening with our bright flares and endless laughter.
We do a lot of laughing and hugging in this family to preserve our sanity.
Later that evening, Anthony suggested taking a ride around the city to check out the Christmas lights. All of a sudden I was reminded of my parents who took us on a tour around the Greater Boston area see homes lit up like Roman candles.
My son came in the parlor to hug me and wished me goodnight.
I was watching the Mormon Tabernacle Choir perform Christmas music on Public Television.
"What about George Bailey," asked Anthony? "Aren't you worried about old George?"
"It's a Wonderful Life" was playing on another channel, but I switched it to listen to those angelic voices of the Tabernacle choir.
"George will be just fine," I told my son."And you will be just fine, too."
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