Making Memories

Thursday was a good day.  It started with a secret dream of mine.  One that was buried somewhere in my psyche.  When I was little I used to tell people that my Dad was Santa and my Mom Mrs. Claus. If you know my parents then you can understand where this came from.  My Dad is a bit jolly and my Mom is a Christmas decorating, cookie baking machine.  Turns out I was right all those years ago.

On Thursday my Dad reluctantly agreed to play Santa at my son’s Play-school   He was so nervous that he researched and even dug out some sleigh bells to perfect the ensemble.  I must say that he was a perfect Santa.  Although I’m not sure he will indulge me a second time.  I re-experienced the joy of Christmas as I watched him interact with the kids.  One little girl almost pushed him right off his chair when her name was called.  She did a running jump that could put any any other hug to shame.   I watched in awe and exhilaration.  On Thursday, I felt like a kid again watching my Dad be the hero.

That afternoon my Dad offered to watch my son while I went Christmas shopping with my Mom.  With the hustle and bustle of kids around we don’t often get a chance to catch up with each other.  My Mom is a chronic worrier as all mothers are.  It was nice to put that aside and spend time thinking about Christmas and what would bring joy to her grand kids faces.  We have gotten skilled in the art of spending each other’s money.  On Thursday I got to re-experience the unique connection between a mother and daughter.

Thursday evening was another magical moment.  We have lovely neighbours that have adopted our kids as their own.  They requested a new holiday tradition.  That we take time each year to spend with each other and forget the presents cause the memories are more important.  We went to a local art studio to create a clay family portrait.  I can’t even put into words how much fun we had rolling out the clay and moulding it into little versions of us.  There is something special about the family you chose that is different than the family you are born with.   I am lucky enough to have many of these relationships in my life.  On Thursday I got to experience that joy.

Thursday will go down in my memory as one of my best days.  It was all time well spent.  It is why holidays are so important as a way to make memories.  Thursday was a good day.

On Friday a man walked into a school in Connecticut and took the lives of 26 people, 20 of them children my daughter’s age.  Friday was not a good day.  The events in Connecticut made for an ugly reminder that I only have so many days like Thursday with my family.   I have held my children tighter since Friday as I am sure we all did.  Life can be ugly and scary but it can also be filled with pure joy.  I want to hang on to every second of it with my kids, even the temper tantrums my son has perfected recently or the chronic cotton balls that must be stuck in my daughter’s ears when I ask he to clean up after herself.  I can’t imagine ever losing them.  Friday I was forced to think about it and I don’t want to go there again.

While my heart breaks for the family of the victims,  I remind myself that those families also had days like I did on Thursday.  One day I hope those memories will take up more room in their hearts than the violence and grief that fills them now.  Until then I hope they can grieve. I hope that they find some comfort in that we all grieve with them.