My Mother in law’s front room will always feel like Christmas, except of course when it feels like Thanksgiving, or Easter.
My 8 year old and his grandmother spent hours talking about the lights on this tree. Apparently some are more yellow than white. And this irked both of them. He sitting on the couch, consulting, she stringing the lights through the tree.
I sat in a chair trying to avoid the temptation to read the news, unable to figure out for the life of me which string of lights was the wrong color.
It’s all Greek to me.
Tomorrow they are thinking of starting to hang ornaments. I’ll be at the dentist, and the post office and making a trip to The Burrow in order to clean a few things out.
I’ll leave the perfect placement of each shiny ornament to those two. They have the flare for decorating, or one of them does. The other one might just have the flare for thinking he is right. All the time.
I’ll spend my time, savoring the smell of the tree and the gentle candle lights and even the Christmas music that we play after the first shift goes to bed.
It’s a new Christmas traditional, sleeping at Grandma’s now that we no longer live next door. Visiting our doggie, and working into the new way of things.
But this front room. Still the place to spend Christmas.
*Home for the Holidays