#Yearof50. Entry 22: I'll be home for Christmas

My parents, especially my mother Jackiline, made sure that Christmas was always extra special for me and my sisters. We had two Christmas trees: one in the main living room and one in the family room. Dad always seemed to love to get the trees, always real ones, each year. Presents from the family were under the living room tree and presents from Santa were delivered by the old red-suited gent to the basement tree. Us kids made the decorations for the tree in the basement, and the main tree was a Victorian beauty done up by Mom.

A Québécois family, Christmas Eve was especially important, and we had a traditional meal of smoked meat, tortiere, and plenty of yummy homemade desserts. We also opened up presents from the family. When I was much younger, I would attend midnight mass with my Great Aunt Marion.

Christmas morning always began with my sisters barging into my room at some ridiculously early time and jumping on my bed to announce that Santa had come. Foggy, and still asleep, I would wander down to ingest fresh coffee and we would gather to open up our stockings. This particular tradition was maintained by Angela’s son Kaelan, who loved to wake his uncle as early as possible.

And then it was a hearty breakfast by Mom, including the perfect fried eggs, bacon, beans, and cretons. We often had leftover tortiere too.

Next it was down to the family room to the kids’ tree, surrounded by presents from Santa. Our dear pets would gather too as we would rip open the treasures from the North Pole.

After a rest and wallowing in our new gifts, we would get ready and typically head over to Grandma Connie’s to see our wonderful extended family. It was always so fun to see and play with our many dear cousins.

Years later, as we got older, my dearest sister Angela would often host Christmas Eve gatherings, with all of the family’s traditional foods, and my darling sister Marsha would bake with Mom so we would have mountains of seasonal treats.

I miss those Christmases enormously. I miss the excitement in my sisters’ eyes and faces, the wonderful food by my Mom, the quiet contentment of Dad as he watched his family. I miss how Mom decorated our house so joyfully and made sure we always felt so very special and loved. I miss my Dad, may he Rest In Peace.

Sadly, we cannot gather once again this year, but I hold each of them close to my heart. I’ll always be home for Christmas, if only in my dreams.

With all my love.