For the first time in 22 years, I’m spending Christmas far away from my children. Long before they were born, I had become pretty pragmatic about the holidays. One year during medical school (after working since early in the morning, naturally) I spent Christmas evening eating a bowl of white rice and steamed broccoli, writing an essay about the season that went on to be… largely ignored by the world. It actually was one of the better Christmases I’ve had, and I’ve had a lot of really good ones. Of course, in any life, memories both good and bad will coincide with the holidays: my grandfather, the light of my childhood, died on Christmas Eve while I was still in medical school. Eighty-seven and still way too soon.
This year, we’re again being very low key. HA and I will be taking Luna the Big Dog™ to our favorite beach where we’ll camp overnight. I’ll be thinking a lot of all the Christmas mornings I got up at 2 AM to stuff stockings and start a Yule fire and put Santa presents under the tree, then watching the little ones get up and experience Christmas awe, fading over the years to a happy Christmas cynicism. But this year I’ll just happily reminisce.
—2p