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We had a wonderful Christmas despite a series of unfortunate events. The tree was piled with gifts for the children, the house decorated in every room with warm lights, two big Christmas trees, and lots of good food. Wonderful friends and neighbors came to visit and to share with Jon’s family.
Bo, of course, doesn’t understand that it’s the holiday season. The trees which he has always loved were put up and he really didn’t notice even though he helped me decorate one of them. One night as I backed down the driveway, he commented on the front yard decorations, saying that I had done a good job; but that’s all he said, and as I drove him around town to look at the lights that we’ve always enjoyed, he asked, “What decorations?” when I pointed them out to him.
Alla’s family surprised me with a 7-foot, twinkling Eiffel Tower which Jon put
together and set on the back patio so we can see it through the French doors, but Bo asks what it is and has no idea what an Eiffel Tower really is.
All wasn’t smooth. The season took its first twist a week before Christmas when Adriana’s shoulder froze. She was in excruciating pain, couldn’t move her arm and, worst of all, couldn’t work at the hair salon – a loss during a lucrative season.
The second blow came when Jon was in a motorcycle accident four days later and seriously hurt his foot and side; he’s in a boot, on crutches and still taking pain meds. Then, two days ago their car had a flat tire and overheated.
“More bad luck,” Jon commented.
“No, think of it as good luck,” my friend Rodney said to him. “I was here when it happened and helped you change the tire!” A good philosophy. It applies to a lot that has happened here this fall.
My favorite Christmas tree is in our living room – decorated with all of Anya’s beautiful hand-painted balls (a story for another time perhaps.) Anyway, they are delicate and exquisitely beautiful. Yesterday Bo asked me to come into the room because there was
a problem. He took me to the tree and began jamming his hand recklessly between the branches saying, “There’s nothing there!” Nothing there? I asked. “Yeah, nothing. It’s empty. Look.” I was so taken aback by this that I didn’t know what to say or do. When I didn’t respond, he walked away, annoyed. What did he mean?
Jon feels so bad about not being the strong helper right now. Poor Emma dog doesn’t get any long walks; I’m doing the house work and following Bo around. I’m the strength in the house and I can joke about it: “What’s wrong with this picture?”
My feeling is that we were all together for Christmas, we’re enjoying our situation, and that’s most excellent good luck!
(A friend suggested that it’s the perfect plot for a Hallmark movie.)