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A COVID Christmas
On Friday, we celebrated Christmas in a way similar to the family at the center of the Christmas story; just the three of us: father, mother, and child.
We were merely three because our first child, Maria, passed away five years ago at the age of 30, and since Katrina works in health care and interacts with COVID patients, we decided to be extra cautious.
Such a small Christmas gathering is an anomaly for us. Usually, we unite with Barbara’s extended family on the 25th, a get-together that typically includes 20–25 people. Then, on the Saturday after Christmas, we often meet with my extended family and a similar amount of people. Only once during our 36 years of marriage did the four of us stay at home alone on Christmas, and that occurred only because a giant snowstorm kept everyone at home for the day and delayed the family gatherings by a day or two.
So this year, Katrina spent Christmas Eve at our home, and on Christmas morning, we opened presents as we usually did. When the girls were young — both excited and energized — we typically opened gifts first and followed that with a light breakfast. This year, we ate a big breakfast before we opened gifts. The excitement and the energy were not as strong, but the smiles and the laughter were similar, and we thoroughly enjoyed a relaxing morning of memories and stories of Christmases past.
