Friday, January 8, 2016
Around two o'clock in the afternoon we start to get ready. We pull ourselves out of the wrapping paper piles, the fireplace, the empty boxes, the jammies. It's hard to but it sure is worth it.
I love us
Because we go here.
To my parents just about a half hour away.
That's my brother Tommy behind my Dad. He's always there to unload our car.
And it's Christmas there.
Dressed up feels good and right. Their house glows. It's perfect.
I could have taken oh so many more pictures. But now that it's around four or five in the afternoon a calm, tired, joy has settled and I'm quite lazy with the camera. So just a few.
Our twentieth married Christmas.
And my smile becomes more natural and I brighten up when my girls are in there with us.
This family I am so grateful for, the four of us. The family that started twenty years ago.
This was my parent's 50th married Christmas. I just love this photo.
We scream for baby doll clothes.
And great big Eloise story books.
As the night wears on and dinner is done. The teapot comes out and little ones get tired. We all do.
Anna, always remember this Christmas when you gave Grandma that scarf you knitted for soooo long.
Big sisters leaning in because they know little sisters presents benefit her.
And after a long while we leave. This year when we pulled up to our street at home I cried. I do that. I'm sentimental like that. Because it was over. Yes, I know that the Christmas season is longer in the Church. And I know the real meaning of Christmas; I do. But Christmas Day was over. Scott squeezed my hand because without words he knows what I'm thinking, and we bring the girls inside. They've already changed into nightgowns at Grandma and Grandma's house so they just climb into bed. In seconds they look like this.
Merry Christmas sweet girls.