MY NOT-SO-BAD CHRISTMAS

I knew a fellow once, in my late 20's, who just couldn't wrap his head around an adult like myself, who still got so giddy over Christmas. "Obviously," he told me, "you've never experienced a truly bad Christmas."  Well, a lot of years and a lot of Christmases have gone by since then.  I had my first miscarriage right before Christmas, and though it didn't dampen my spirits too terribly much, it made some of my loved ones, who had bought baby-related things for our gifts and who realized that my green and white tree skirt was actually the baby quilt I'd been working on for so long, rather uncomfortable.

Then we lost my mother right before Christmas, just two years ago. And, of course, there was this year -- spending most of Christmas in the hospital, with all of us wondering just how many more Christmases we'd have with my dear hubby.

Still, I guess I must not have experienced a truly bad one yet, because, to tell you the truth, the only thing that ever makes me really sad at Christmas is this -- packing it all up, and having to wait nine or ten excruciating months, before I can start getting giddy all over again!