A Classic California Christmas

I love Christmas. I love coming home for Christmas. I love pulling into the driveway (this year we were towed in... but you get the idea) and having my mom and dad come out to greet us. I love the white lights and decorations and nativities everywhere (my mom now has over thirty). I love the smell of carmels and cinnamon jells and cinnamon rolls.

I love going to Naples in Long Beach to walk up and down looking at all the beautifully decorated harbor homes. I love late night movies with Paige. I love sleeping in. I love playing Christmas songs on the piano--and, even more, to sing all the Torgerson and Snowball classics with my mom playing.

I love (LOVE) Christmas Eve. The fancy dinner with candles and martinellies and all the turkey trimmings. I love the program we do every single year--the stories that make Mom cry, the singing, the Sees Candies, the stockings on the chairs, and the Miracle on 34th Street and The Grinch watching that happens upstairs as we fall asleep, waiting for the magic to take it's toll.

I love Paige's inability sleep and her bouncing energy at 6:30 am Christmas morning. I love the parade down the stairs as we go to greet the gifts of Christmas. I love taking our time opening stockings and watching as the Santa presents are opened (Santa doesn't come to married folk, so we patiently waited our turns as Paige and Blake make their way through their piles). I love that my dad sits by the tree and tosses the presents to us one by one. I love capturing Paige's great reactions on presents she especially hoped for or that came completely unexpected. I love the migration to the kitchen for homemade cinnamon rolls and hot chocolate and talk of the gifts.

I love the missionary phonecall as we all fan around the speaker phone and three-way in those who didn't come home this year. The jumble of conversations, the cascade of questions.

I love the lazy morning in pajamas and the slow processions to the showers to get ready to go to the Grandmas' houses. I love walking into Grandma Snowball's house and being greeted by the aunts and the 100+ santa decorations strategically placed throughout the house. I love the candy dishes and the ongoing conversations and the red sweaters in abundance. I love the traffic in the kitchen when dinner is served and the slouching in the chairs and recliners when finished. I love the music--the classic Snowball music--and the feeling of unity and we all sing the familiar carols and blend our voices in the familiar harmonies. An Old Fashioned Christmas. Were You There. Who Would Send a Baby. Silent Night Lullaby. I love it when the sweet soup is brought out and the adults come carrying their cream-filled bowls in their hands to the living room (while us non-sweet-soupers scramble for the creamsicles). I love the sigh of the day as we climb back into pajamas and watch a movie or read a new book, warm with the day's doings.

I love waking up the next morning and wishing Mom a Happy Birthday and then getting to partake of the usual festivities for that day (shopping with Mom, out to lunch, a movie). I love the piles of unwraped presents that fill up the suitcases and floorspace of the rooms because we don't quite want to put them away yet.

I love being home for Christmas. The scramble to be ready, the excitment and calm of the day, the lazy haze of the aftermath. I'm a little sad to be leaving today in just a few hours to go back to my own apartment and another week of vacation. There is nothing quite like being home for the holidays. I wish it never had to end.