Fresh, and I do mean fresh as in re-freshed, after Christmas. Mellow you might say. What? Did ghosts of Christmas Past sneak into dreams?
Well, sure they did. 1959, a four-year old daughter alseep on the couch wakes to Santa in a moon beam placing gifts. Still says it was Santa. A little son toddles to his sister's toy ironing
board, pleased with this mommy tool. It might've been a sign. He grew up to be both mommy and daddy; good he was attracted to ironing at an early age. (I have some pretty good ironing board stories, but I'll leave them for now.)
A baby son's eyes dark eyes light up, as he spies, then crawls full speed to small tree placed in a standing planter. Dust bunnies skitter in his wake. Wow!
Pulls himself up (for the first time) and gives that tree such a shake! So much for that.
Christmas Present, as in now, was a present, as in gift. Younger hands took the Christmas helm and steered the
family to a delightfully, simple, fun-filled holiday. We met, for the first time, two great-grandsons, probably the most intelligent and cutest kids on the planet with the exception, of course, of their remarkable cousins.
Future looks bright as another little Valentine great-granddaughter, christened the Acrobat, rolls and tumbles in the wings, eager to join us. The count stands four to three, femine side....... for now.
Though I was somewhat withered in spirit and body (okay a lot), Christmas rejunvenated me. Hard to believe, but little twigs sprouting on the family tree did the trick. Is that
great or what?