Christmas has been, as usual, happiness and disappointment. It was glorious to watch our 6 year old waking up to Santa's delivery and seeing the wonder and excitement in her eyes. It was a special time to spend with family, specifically my mom-in-law during her 3 days at our home. I was glad to find time to make treats for my family and neighbors. It was nearly picture perfect. Except the elephant in the middle of the room. I have no mom or dad here to enjoy every bit of what I tried very hard to create. Every year now, I notice that things are humming along and "the holidays" are merry and bright, but suddenly I hit that spot when I realize that the one thing I really want for Christmas is to have my parents here with us, to see Erica setting out a plate of cookies for Santa, to help make treats, to give me advice on what to get Mark or how long to cook the ham. I feel cheated out of the perfect gift. I see others who have their parents but don't call or visit, others who don't cherish them as I did mine - and still do - or otherwise take for granted what parents mean to Christmas, much less the rest of the year. I made Mom's pumpkin pie, three of them, and nearly got it right. I listened to Nat King Cole sing "The Lullaby" just as Dad recorded it on cassette more then 25 years ago, and pictured him in his chair, puffing on his pipe, and eating the cookies mom and I had made. All I have are these memories, but they do little to fill me with Christmas cheer. I guess it will always be like this, my cup a bit empty. I can't change it. I don't want to really, because if I don't feel sad without them, then I have forgotten them. And that is something I never want to do.
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