A Christmas to Remember

An arctic storm works its icy way northward like the Grinch, winding snakelike under the Whoville Christmas tree. “This gross weather better turn into a white Christmas,” my daughter, Emelyn, sends the text through howling wind and smatterings of sleet between us. I can’t wait to have my whole family together, a welcome change to the empty nest of the past three years.

Dan and I are driving to the Philly airport in hopes of collecting our son. He spent a perilous morning on the icy roads of Nashville only to wait through delay after delay at the airport. I won’t consider the possibility that Alex might not be here for Christmas. I check the airline app again for the fourteenth time today, dreading to see “delayed” turned into “cancelled.” The weather app comes next. No more precipitation, just frigid wind and cold, cold, cold. I don’t think Emelyn is getting her wish.

I distract myself for a few minutes by humming along with Nat King Cole streaming “The Christmas Song,” smoothly, as if just for me. I’m transported to thoughts of my own, “tiny tots with their eyes all aglow. . .” I’m not one to long for the past, but rocking their little pajama-clad-bodies and reading “The Velveteen Rabbit” one more time would be heavenly. I can feel their little bottoms snuggled perfectly-puzzle-pieced in at my waist.

I hope for a memorable Christmas this year. Earlier this week, I was asked to retell a favorite Christmas memory. I searched my mind’s archives and found many files to linger over.

My third-grade self sits warmed by the fire in a long flannel gown, after a day playing in magnificent Upstate New York snow. My siblings, Andy and Faith, also on rattan furniture, try to name the black poodle puppy whose lovely curls can’t rival my baby sister’s. I wonder how my parents kept such a marvelous present secret.

Or should I talk about my first winter-break trip to New Jersey, when there were so many presents under the tree, I thought my fiancé’s family waited until I arrived to open their gifts? They can’t all be for me, but Dan says, “Who else would they be for?”

Dan competes with Santa every year, spending weeks finding perfect gifts for Emelyn Alex, and me. Oh, the memories of my children on Christmas morning. They are absolutely magical; the children’s tree in the dining room with colored lights and ornaments they made in Sunday School, the house filled with the smells of cinnamon and bread baking, the fire crackling in the center, and our English Springer Spaniel with a bow on top of her head. I can’t capture one of those priceless mornings to share in a few sentences.

I could tell one of my many Christmas Eve memories from parties at Whimsy Hall, Ernest Borden’s beautiful Estate. It wouldn’t be Christmas without singing carols on the staircase of his Center Hall Colonial, the closest I’ll ever come to being in a Hallmark Christmas movie. Ernest doles out delicious beverages while Ollie keeps filling plates with her sumptuous feast.

Dan’s phone rings as we pull out of the cell phone waiting lot at the airport. It must be Alex; he made it. I grab the phone impatiently. It isn’t my son. “Hello, Ernest?”

The weather is causing alarm and Ernest must decide if we should risk the elements tomorrow night for his party. “Whatever you decide will be the right thing,” Dan assures him. But my heart sinks a little.

I’ve never seen so many cars lined up at the airport. Good grief. And all of them in search for loved ones they’ve worried over all day.

Ernest and I discuss weather conditions at the airport, “No, it’s not shut-down and there’s no snow.” Then my cell phone rings and Alex’s voice comes through the car’s sound system. We navigate ending and beginning conversations simultaneously winding past the long line of cars at a standstill, vying for a curb spot.

“Stay in the left lane and I’ll get across and walk down to you.” Our son is finally here. Dan spots him first. “I see you guys.” I lean far left and see his baseball-hatted-head forcing through the wind. Relief rises. Moments later more relief with an arriving text, “The Bordens are still hosting their Christmas Eve party tomorrow.”

No arctic weather will Grinch our memory making this year!

Try this: Go through your holiday memory files and select a few to relive while listening to Nat King Cole. Is there a special holiday decoration or recipe that makes your celebration special?

To make a memorable Christmas, start with this recipe I got from school friend, Betsy O’Brien:

Super-Scrumptious Sticky Buns

Ingredients:

½ c. raisins

½ c. chopped nuts

1 pkg. Rich’s frozen roll dough (or substitute whatever frozen roll dough you find)

¾ c. brown sugar

½ c. granulated sugar

2 T. butterscotch pudding mix (not instant)

½ cup melted butter or margarine

2 t. ground cinnamon

Grease a rectangular baking pan or a bundt cake pan. Sprinkle bottom with raisins and nuts. Place FROZEN rolls over the bottom of pan. Combine sugars and butterscotch and sprinkle over rolls. Pour melted butter over all. Sprinkle cinnamon on top. Cover with a towel and let sit out on counter overnight. Christmas morning, bake at 350 degree for thirty minutes. Invert on a serving plate and serve in about ten minutes.