Hanging with My Family
It’s what I enjoy most about Christmas now: Our teens, Max and Tory, in one spot, together, and my husband Mike and I with them.
<cue sound of sappy stringed instruments and a warm and fuzzy feeling>
Today Tory and I were supposed to head to our local YMCA where she was supposed to run and run and run, until she could run no more. When she was finished with her training run, she was supposed to be happy and laughing because that’s what running does for her. Update: Tory did not get out of bed in enough time to run and run and run. As of noon she and her brother Max were still tucked warmly in their respective beds. I can report, however, that she is a happy camper.
I, on the other hand, Om-ed my way through a Yoga class and exited with some semblance of peace in my soul. I’m glad I’ve returned to Yoga.
Max did sleep through my workout as he’d planned. It’s what he does, always, when he’s home from college. Sleep, I mean. He was a happy young man when he woke up and so it’s all to the good.
Mike worked. He arrived home with his hat’s earflaps down; my children’s own personal father ship came in for a safe landing after a hard day’s work in Manhattan.
We are all convened, showered and dressed, each in our version of Christmas cheer, to attend church then go on to dinner.
As we exit the house and enter the car, headed to our long-time church home, we wish our Christmas-celebrating friends a peaceful and joy-filled Christmas Season.