The day was not a total loss.  Not by a long shot.  But there wasn’t much “Christmassey” about it.  The morning was spent lazily hovering over the newspaper, sipping coffee and listening to the morning talk shows babbling in the background. 

Having spent the night with my Momma and Step-Dad in Tallahassee, I finished up my coffee before dressing and packing my overnight bag to go back in the van.  I had agreed to drop them off at the airport as they began their week long visit with my sister in Texas.

I was there less than 24 hours before I hit the road back home to Gainesville.  I was anxious to get back even though I knew I would be returning to an empty apartment.  Well, kinda empty – but the black and grey haired cat doesn’t really count.

That afternoon after dropping my bag off at home and checking on the furry one, I headed back out down the road to visit with some friends who had invited me over for their family’s Christmas dinner.  It was nice to be in their warm, loving home, amongst the hustle and bustle that I’m so familiar with in my own.  It was the hustle and bustle that I hadn’t had a chance to be a part of this holiday season.

I made myself available in the kitchen to my friend DG as much as she’d let me.  Just standing around and watching someone else do all the work is a foreign concept to me.  I wanted my hands to stay busy in hopes that my mind would follow suit.  Because every pause in my step made room for the reminder that my children were not with me on this day.

When I climbed into bed later that night and flicked on the laptop, the glowing screen showed the social run-down of everyone else’s joyous Christmas day.  Mine had been nice.  Very nice actually.  But it just didn’t seem like Christmas had happened.  Not having my kids around devalued the spirit of the day for me.  How could it possibly be Christmas when my children were not there to celebrate it with me?

The next morning, it took all that I had in me not to rush over to pick the children up from their father’s house the moment the sun peeked over the tree tops.  But before mid-day they were home and eager to open the gifts that Santa had left them there.  I sat on the corner of the couch and watched as they picked out a gift one at at time for the other to open, taking turns and trying their hardest to guess the contents before tearing into the paper wrapping.  My cheeks hurt from smiling.

It was finally Christmas.