Home Away From Home for the Holidays
Published Dec. 31, 2006
Ah, Christmas in Aspen. A blanket of fresh snow and good cheer welcoming visitors; carolers trolling the
cobblestone streets to wish everyone well for the holidays, while twinkling lights glisten against a backdrop of
rugged snow-capped peaks. Thousands of travelers made their way to the slopes this year to enjoy Christmas,
Rocky Mountain style - sleigh bells ringing, and the whole bit. So, it was with lingering uncertainty that my children
loaded up the minivan on a crisp, blue sky Colorado day to drive 12 hours away from the storybook scenery so that
we could spend Christmas on the plains.
The idea had seemed like a good one at the time - going away for the holidays before the kids really put their
teenage feet down and refused to leave home. We had thought we might actually go to Mexico, but when my
father-in-law ever-so-subtly suggested we could always go to Mexico after he died, it was settled. We were headed
to Grandpa's house.
Presents were piled high, making it difficult to see out the rearview window. Blankets and pillows clogged the seats,
giving each child a comfy place to bed down as the studded snow tires hummed and the DVD player lit up the
interior. Over the river and through the woods we went, 21st century style.
We had two sets of grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins to see over 750 miles in eight days. Throw in two
holidays and three birthdays, and Chevy Chase couldn't have fared any better on a Griswold Family Vacation.
The gifts, the food, the traditions, both old and new - no matter what holidays you celebrate, like yours I'm sure,
ours are laden with a little too much. Do we really need one more scarf, one more piece of fudge, one more trip to
the mall?
In the end I suppose we do. Because it turns out, it's those moments that sustain us. Time spent shopping for
someone special means simply thinking of them a little more than usual. Time spent baking and cooking meals and
sharing space in the kitchen. Hours wiled away playing dominoes and chess and Spongebob Monopoly. There's a
coming together as we sit side by side, sifting through the instruction booklet for the digital camera, or learning how
to land the remote control plane. There's a certain grace in saying prayers together at church and watching in quiet
wonder at the tree lights on Christmas morning. And there is comfort in sipping a cup of hot cocoa and sharing a
talk by the fire.
These are the things we hold onto throughout the year, long after the batteries have died in that new flashlight and
the holiday pounds have been lost - and gained again. Sure, we may not need it all, the excess. But the beautiful
byproduct of "too much" is, quite frankly, just enough. Just enough to last until the next time we refuel in the
presence of family and friends.
When it came time to write this column I was stuck. I guess I'm still in vacation mode as I sit in my husband's
childhood home and watch the snow fall from the big Montana sky. Watching me stare at the blank computer
screen, my son Ben finally said, "Why don't you just write about Christmas? Write about how much you love your
folks."
I don't recall saying out loud how much I love "my folks." Then again, our actions always speak louder. And perhaps
leaving home at Christmas said it all.