We had a good Christmas. A different one, certainly, because everyone now has a schedule that has to be worked and planned around, and because Baby G is coming, but it was a good one. Each of us found our way, early in the morning, to the room where stuffed stockings were waiting, and opened them before leaving for church. When we came home, there were strawberry-filled crepes to eat, and then a few hours of baking or reading or doing nothing until everyone was once again gathered in the family room. There we took turns unwrapping gifts or delivering them to one another, searching under the Christmas tree for one with just the right size and shape and kind of wrapping paper, the one that we knew would create smiles and laughter. Throughout the afternoon, once the blanket under our tree wore only a dusting of green pine needles, and each bedroom seemed filled with candy and presents, each of us, except for Mama and Baby G, took a turn at the preparation of a traditional Christmas dinner. It tasted good and was a very nice ending to a very nice day.
But the peak moment of Christmas, for me at least, was when the gift of a little children's picture book brought tears and joy. It is an adorable picture book, full of coloured paintings, little sketches, and several pages with sweet promises of happiness and good dreams. And on nearly every page a very golden, very round harvest moon hangs from an inky sky, because it is Moonchild's gift for Baby G. The picture book is called "On the Night You Were Born", by Nancy Tillman.
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