“Nature is not only all that is visible to the eye... it also includes the inner pictures of the soul.”

~ Edvard Munch

It was eight o’clock when the phone woke me; my youngest driving home from Poughkeepsie for Christmas. Frank was asleep beside me. Certainly, in the thirty plus years we’ve been married, we’ve not slept in until 8:00 a.m. And, I was emotionally drained. I'd been dreaming, intensely, about my parents. Strangely, as if my unconscious was trying to knock any Christmas sentimentality out of me, it was a dream of family dysfunction. My parents were alive and I was caught in the middle of their marital angst. Phew! It felt good to wake up. And go to church. Not church, but outdoors, better. Into the blue sky Christmas morning I went after Frank and I finished wrapping gifts. My son was here, helping. But no one else had arrived and I wanted my time with the dogs by the river. It was so quiet. The only the sound was the creaking and tinkling of river ice as we slid around. Suzi came too. I found a frosted apple. I wanted to stay and stay and play on the ice. But I also wanted to make homemade crepes to go with breakfast. And there are presents to give and receive. We’ve been hosting Christmas dinner for so many years, and we have it all down, the way we work together, the menu. Everyone helps. But it’s Frank’s and my gift, to give this occasion to our loved ones. His mother. My brother and his family. My sister’s son, nephew and his girlfriend. We’ve hosted three times this many at this meal; today is easy. And the best part of the meal isn’t the food, but that is wonderful. It’s when my youngest suggests the dinner topic: go around the table and tell about a favorite Christmas from any time in your life. It works so well! Everyone has something fun and poignant, and the two quietest, my nephew and his girlfriend, delight and surprise us all with the very best stories of the table! She tells about finding a stray dog a few days before Christmas as a child. And they post signs and try to find the owner, and they can’t. And then, on Christmas day, the dog has puppies! And they get to keep two of them, even though the owner eventually claims the mother and others. And my nephew tells about the trip to South Korea, when he was five, with his family to adopt his sister. He always wanted a sister. And how this new sister, whom he showed off to everyone, made his first Christmas with her so happy, because now he had another sibling to share Christmas. Did not see either of these stories coming. And, then, from my son, he remembers the Christmas I wrote about last night: the reconciliation. The year my father and husband finally signed their agreement, on Christmas Eve, separating their businesses. He remembered the tension in the air, as the family shared Christmas dinner at my parents’ house, and how we all tolerated it, and it was okay. And I was so touched that this was his memory. That he knew there was tension and pain and hurt and that we did it any way. We got through it. He was probably around twelve or thirteen. And I know it meant the world to him, to be with family on Christmas, to have every one together. And it’s been like that, ever since. The hurt has healed. And there were, in those two troubled years, so many many moments when I was afraid they never could. I’m happy and tired, and every bone and joint and muscle is achey. Just as Frank and I had the kitchen cleaned up he got a call from someone he sponsors in AA. He was stranded and needed a ride back to his shelter where he lived. So Frank jumped in his car, gave him a ride. A day well done, and tomorrow, I can stay outdoors as long as I like.