It's almost unrecognizable.
Christmas, 2022, that is.
We're doing a dual celebration, for one thing. Erica and Andy will be in the Caribbean on their honeymoon for Christmas this year, so we held our family get-together yesterday, the 18th. Not that unusual, since they've been in Florida at Andy's folks for the past three years anyway.
We're minus Chris for the first time in 25 years. I for one felt his absence, a son-in-law who destroyed his life and his family with the decision to use drugs. So his place at the table was conspicuously absent.
Then there was the menu.
For as long as I can remember, long before we moved to Burlington County in 1989, long before my first marriage broke up in 1977, my prize lasagna was the centerpiece of the Christmas dinner table.
This year, on orders from my daughters and Howard, I was not able to cook. Recovering from surgery meant "resting," while the kitchen was commandeered by the girls and Andy. We had a delicious dinner: salmon with sauces Terri invented, risotto, cilantro rice and asparagus. All favorites. All expertly prepared. All utterly foreign to a Christmas dinner at my house.
Andy made a scrumptious Hershey chocolate cake for dessert, which capped it all off. Miranda and her partner Tatiana cleared the table; Howard washed dishes, loaded the dishwasher and Nate, under some pressure from Andy, dried. I don't think Adela contributed in any way other than with her beautiful presence and occasional smile.
It was all over; the kids were gone by 8:30. We'd already agreed not to gift one another this year. Instead we contributed to Erica's French Club project of providing families of patients at St. Christopher's Hospital with wish list items. After all, we have everything we need and, according to the grandkids, Christmas shopping is simply too stressful.
On Christmas Eve, weather permitting (and that's questionable as a huge storm is threatening), we'll take the ride up to Terri's and spend some time with her and the grands. Just the five of us. No gifts, no lasagna, not much resembling the Christmases I've spent for the past 80 years.
I suppose change is good, but why does this one make me want to cry?
