My emotions are like the cumbersome metronome swinging predictably from one weighted side to the other on the top of our ancient upright childhood piano. Back and forth, back and forth it swings. I’ve allowed my holiday mood to be dictated by whatever the most recently received crackling ethernet message is. I should instead give the myriad, joyful, effervescent family stories the permission to bubble up and sparkle my holiday consciousness.
It’s the day after feasting with our families and friends. The last thing we want to do is get back into the kitchen! However, we ask ourselves, “what can I serve all my houseguests besides turkey and ham sandwiches?”
We have a quirky tradition in our family. We gift books. It all started with my Scottish grandparents who could only see us every 4-5 years on our scheduled furloughs. So, since phone calls back then were only for emergencies, they chose books as the conduit for staying connected with their grandchildren.