Christmas Eve Morning

A cold steel gray dawn, with chipping sparrows at the feeder. My SO had a hard night, snorting fits, sniffly, stuffy nose. Cedar fever. So early this year. He won't admit it's allergies, but I recognize all the signs. He keeps saying he's never had allergies so why would they start harassing him now? I have a theory about that. I consider myself a semi-scholar on the subject of allergies, having done battle with them for most of my life. I think in his case radiation damage has caused his nasal passages, indeed all of his sinuses, to become more receptive to histamine production. A leftover from the throat cancer that laid him low seven years ago. He has more leftovers than just this one. Another subject for another day. He managed to get back to sleep. I crept out of the room a little before six.

It's Christmas Eve. A blustery norther is set to arrive, as are my oldest son and his partner. In an ideal world their plane will arrive at 3:30 this afternoon, and then they'll face a three hour drive in a rental car to get here. Fingers are crossed that all goes as planned. But it's Christmas Eve, and half the country is buried under a blizzard, so we shall see how their travel proceeds. We think if they can get to and out of Baltimore, things should go well from there.

The anticipation of this day has left me feeling somewhat subdued now that it's here. I think the big Sunday we had, full of people and food, and laughter and noise, has made everything else about the holidays somewhat anti-climatic. But my son is such a pleasure to be around -- I say that not just as a proud mother -- but as someone who has observed him for these long 38 years, and it hasn't gone unnoticed that he has an abundance of friends, both old and new, and an aptitude for making things fun and meaningful. He is and has always been a bit of an amazement to me. Even as a baby, an old soul in a tiny body, somehow wiser than he should have been, witty and wonderfully sensitive to the needs of those around him. I am awed that I should have -- could have -- raised such a person, although he never needed much "raising" in the strictest sense. It's been five months since I have seen him, and so I will tick off the hours until the two of them arrive.

We'll save the big Christmas celebration for tomorrow, an oddity for our family. We've always tended to do the most celebrating on Christmas Eve. But travel days are throw-away days, and we'll wait it out until tomorrow, with everyone refreshed. Daddy and his dog will be here, and we plan to cook steaks, weather permitting. No provincial stuffed turkey for this bunch. We're having rib eyes, corn pudding, and baked bread. My only nod to tradition will be the green bean casserole, or should I say, THE green bean casserole, because it's different, more substantial and better, than the one everyone else makes. Ours has bacon and cheese and bread crumbs and sauteed onions included, and no one can eat this particular green bean casserole and ever look again at the one the rest of the world prepares with anything but contempt. Yes, we are smug about our green bean casserole.

My son has requested pecan pie. I don't think they make many pecan pies up in the DC area. Or else, as he says, they "f" it up with raisins or some other silly ingredient. So I'll make that today, and maybe the time will go by a bit faster.

I hear my SO stirring in the other room. The cat at my feet has also stretched and wakened. The sky is lighter than it was when I began this. Sun a big butterscotch wafer rising over the oak trees lining the creek below our place. Time to get the day started.

Merry Christmas to all!

Onward ....