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Bright

December 25, 2010

I wish there was a word for the mix of happy and lonely I’m feeling right now. The stockings are filled and draped over the futon, the tree is lit, the baby is asleep, there is Christmas music playing, and I’m about to indulge in a sip of my favorite Scotch. These are all good things. We spent a nice afternoon selecting local wines to send to N’s family – it’s become a tradition, the Christmas wine sent just before Christmas to brighten up some of the other twelve days that don’t get celebrated any more.

But N is holed up in his basement office which is about as far as he can get from me without leaving the house. I come from one of those annoying, happy families who liked to spend time together, and holiday time was always special. He didn’t have that, and so maybe he doesn’t miss it, but I do. I attempted to lure him upstairs with Talisker, and he played along very nicely, said he’d be up in a few minutes, but the guitar music wafting up from the office tells me that by the time he climbs the stairs, I’ll be in bed.

I know that he really just needs some time to think and breathe and be alone, that he doesn’t know how much I wish he were sitting beside me (and I won’t tell him). But I miss him, and I miss my family, and I miss my Teddy who should be listening for reindeer on the roof and having trouble sleeping. There’s snow and love and I remember distinctly that last year at this time I was hoping that this year there’d be three of us here. There are, and there’s something magical in seeing Dot’s eyes light up at the sight of the tree, or watching N dance her to sleep to Christmas carols. We are three, and that is a great gift.

But I miss our fourth, and I can’t help wondering if the distance N needs tonight is connected to the distance between us and our firstborn, who never danced with us under the Christmas lights or tore bows off packages. It’s a beautiful, quiet night, and I realize, again, how much brighter twinkle lights appear when there are tears in my eyes.

I send my love out into the winter air and hope it finds you, my boy, my huckleberry, my Teddy. Merry Christmas, baby. We’re doing okay, but we miss you.

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4 comments

  1. We’re doing ok but we miss you. That’s just it, isn’t it?
    Love to you and yours.
    xo


  2. Just what Sally said. Doing okay but missing.


  3. This post really reaches a tender spot in my heart.
    Missing Teddy with you. ((hugs))


  4. Missing our fourth too. xo



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