Showing posts with label grandchildren. Show all posts
Showing posts with label grandchildren. Show all posts

Thursday, December 27, 2018

Thoughts on Christmas Eve


I just checked the thermometer in our backyard. It reads 90 degrees (in the shade). I hope Santa has a summer outfit. Just put the turkey in the oven, though I’m tempted to try sun-baking it. The CNN weather report informs me that a thunder storm is due in the San Francisco area, and our future daughter-in-law and our son report that it’s sleeting in New Jersey.
    What I miss about Christmas here in Chile is the smell of live fir or pine trees, a nip in the air and a fire in the fireplace. Fires were banned years ago in Santiago due to the smog. Besides, who wants a fire in this heat?
    What is Christmas without the smell of cookies in the oven? My two youngest grandkids came last week to help decorate the tree (artificial) and we baked cookies. The thirteen-year-old twins preferred going to the mall. Yesterday I made more cookies as well as the family recipe for Scottish shortbread. Christmas music on ITunes created a festive atmosphere in the kitchen.



I was up early this morning to get to a French bakery to buy their unbelievable croissants. Then to the supermarket which I expected to be empty at that time. Everyone one else had the same idea.

    We’ll celebrate at a nephew’s house tonight with his three young kids, plus sisters- and brother-in-law, and a couple of nieces and their children. It will be bedlam as the children rip open their gifts. Years ago I tried to instill some calm into this process, suggesting that “Santa” pass out only one gift at a time. It starts out well but the pace and noise and excitement build into a crescendo. Tomorrow our eldest son and wife and our four grandchildren will come for “brunch”. No doubt, our four-year-old grandson will bring his best new toy. I suspect that parked under many a Christmas tree (though not ours) will be an electric scooter – the latest rage here, propelling indignant pedestrians into a rage.
    At the end of another year, I’m filled with mixed feelings and nostalgia. I ponder upon the loved ones who are no longer here. I feel proud of my accomplishments and satisfactions. Normally, I like watching the year’s summary on television, though this year has been a tough one world-wide. I shake my head in despair at U.S. politics and sincerely pray that the American people will come to their senses. To banish this black cloud of pessimism I work to list the good things in life: family, dear friends, old and new, the beauty of the Nutcracker Suite, birdsong, the fragrance of a redwood forest, the panorama of the Andes from my window ….

A list without end.









Friday, December 20, 2013

Hugs are on my mind. Yesterday the grand-girls came to help decorate our Christmas tree. Artificial. I succumbed several years ago as every live, potted tree I bought over the years turned sad and spindly, and I couldn't keep it in a pot forever, so I’d end up guiltily euthanizing it. Tree lots are non-existent in Chile.
Back to grandchildren and hugs. We also made Christmas cookies and then they invented making lemonade on the back patio ("they" meaning the girls, not the cookies). Results: Lots of fun and laughs and VERY sticky surfaces inside and out.  But, well…..hugs. Children are made for squeezing!  I can’t resist those plump arms and legs, though they clearly let me know when enough is enough.
I spent this morning rubbing my mother-in-law’s hand (the one not connected to intravenous tubes), interspersed with hugs and forehead stroking. She is 103 years-old and stopped eating and drinking several days ago. I've never found it easy to hug or caress an older body. With my aging mother, I made a great step forward when I rubbed her swollen legs with body lotion. Now I lament that I didn't give her more hugs.
Maybe I’m trying to redeem myself with my mother-in-law. According to her children, she was not a physically affectionate mother, but in the past year she began seeking more contact. She’d rub my hands and lift her face for a kiss. Now I sit next to her deathbed and give her what I know she wants, though she can no longer express it. It has become easier for me. I hold her thin hand in gratitude for reminding me that we all need hugs and for showing me how to leave the living world with dignity.