Today I woke up, and a blurry white confetti swirled around my frosty window. It was Christmas morning (12pm don’t judge) and what a fantastic time. A hearty laugh from Dad. A flash from Mom’s camera. Duncan belly-up on the rug waiting for a tummy rub. And I, sitting by the Christmas tree, decorated with home-made and colorful ornaments, each imbued with its own special memory. The fire burned downstairs in the rustic stove and warmth filled our home. It wasn’t all the fire’s doing, I knew.
Then, a drill gun for dad. An ornate red shirt for mom. A forest brown Echo Hoodie for me (yeeah).
Then there were bows and wrapping paper all over the floor, the tell-tale sign of the wonderful gifts exchanged. I hug Mom and Dad and scratch Duncan’s ears, and know this is a special time. Someday the sweaters are worn and the books eventually go on the shelf, but the time together somehow lasts. If not in crystallized memory, then in a nostalgic wave that rises within and breaks on the surface with a smile. Some distant day, I know, when I need it most. A day when there is no fire, and its cold to the touch, when a little warmth could do a body good. I store today away for that occasion, a small paper gift with a bow set under the tree. An orange sitting at the bottom of the stocking, waiting to be unpeeled and shared.
Today, I relish it. No naps today. Every second counts. Don’t waste it, I tell myself. An extra hug here, a peck on the cheek there. Give that love away. It will be worth it.