My Christmases have been defined by memories, traditions, rituals, wishes, and things that may or may not matter.
Like many of you, I had holiday wishes that did and did not happen. As a parent, I try to make as many of those wishes happen, but it’s not always possible.
For example, when I was six years old, I wanted a treehouse. My grandfather, who was a carpenter by trade, built the finest, sturdiest, fanciest treehouse you could imagine, with a front flight of stairs with handrails, a balcony, windows, and window boxes with plastic begonias. Even the adults enjoyed visiting my treehouse.
This year, my five year old daughter asked for a treehouse. We don’t have the same type of yard, the same type of trees, and my multitalented husband is not a carpenter. My grandfather has long ago passed away. It’s sad and unfortunate to me to not be able to grant her the same wish that I had been given. However, I have no doubt that she will feel as loved as I did on the Christmas morning when I was six.
We were later than I would have liked getting our Christmas decorations up. As I took a picture of my mantel, this imperfect, blurry picture appeared. My Christmas will be both blurry and imperfect, and that’s okay. I hope that you, too, will enjoy your less than perfect holiday.