Thoughts on a Day

Christmas came, as I knew it would. I put up the little tree on Christmas eve. It stands about two feet tall. Then I installed the ceramic nativity set on the hearth. Two essential decorations, one a nod to the commercial, the other a nod to the religious. Of the two, I like the nativity set. Hand-painted by my wife, in a long-ago pottery class, it has graced almost all of our Christmases. We’ve had it so long I’m unable to remember when it first appeared. There are nicks and dings, St. Joseph is headless, but overall, it is still a fine piece of work and a nice tribute to her.

I am still puzzled about the duck that is as tall as a wiseman’s shoulder. But it’s ceramic, it’s in the set, and what would keep a giant duck from visiting the baby Jesus. Nothing. This year I noticed the camels. They’re shorter than they should be. The standing camel is head high to a standing wiseman, which is about three feet too short, unless the wiseman is nine feet tall, and I doubt that’s the case. I guess I noticed them this year because I spent a lot of time staring at the nativity scene and thinking about the woman who took the time to bring it to life. That was melancholy business. The business was capped off by an afternoon visit to the cemetery, an unusual Christmas activity; appropriate given the circumstances.

But let us remember the living. The children. My daughter and her family paid me a pre-Christmas visit; my oldest son and his family, sent gifts of homemade preserves and a lovely ornament in memory of his mother. My youngest son, who shares my abode, joined me for breakfast and gave me a metal detector. We spent most of the day digging in the yard. We found a horseshoe, two links of a chain, a marble, and the innards of an old pocket watch. In the evening we grilled steaks. Overall, I’d count the day a success. Old memories were visited, new memories made, and life, in its inexorable fashion, continued on down the road carrying us along with it.