I had a moment today, a vivid memory, of maybe one, or maybe many years of memories combined, it was hard to tell. I grew up with such tradition in my family, I knew there were certain things I could count on every year, things that my siblings and I looked forward to every Christmas. Not presents, necessarily, but everything leading up to that day, the decorations, the music, the baking, my big beautiful family always together. There are simple little things that I've tried to carry on in hopes of keeping those memories dear to me, and also creating similar memories for my children.
The boys were all in school today and I decided to make a couple of pies. And while I was at it, I decided to get out some Christmas music, John Gary of course. So I stood there at the counter making pie crust just the way my Mother taught me, Piper at my feet with all of the kitchen's best noise makers, John Gary's "Little Snow Girl" playing, a CD, I might add, that was recorded from an old record so it's full of record scratches just like I remember. And as my favorite Christmas song played and I placed the top crust on the apple pie and pressed my thumb along the whole edge to seal it together, I was taken back years and years, to a time when I was barely tall enough to see over the top of the table, watching my sweet Mother, who creates and carries on traditions, pressing her thumb along the edge of a pie crust. It's amazing how something so small can bring such feelings of gratitude, for my family, for my parents, for the childhood memories that I could go on about for hours.
And now in my own home, with my sweet Bruce, and our own beautiful crowd of little ones, I hope my children feel even a little of the magic of tradition that I felt so strongly in my family. The Ghost of Christmas Past isn't such a bad thing.