I’ve been thinking about my Mom’s Mom for the past couple of weeks, even before Jen pulled Rappin’ Santa out of the tupperware container labeled XMAS. Somewhere around Thanksgiving I started remembering the holidays at her house, which were always a high point of the year (except for the drive): the sound of my mom’s relatives gathered around the dining room table, the taste and smell of fantastic food, King Kong, The Wizard of Oz, or It’s A Wonderful Life on WNEW (Pre-Fox channel 5 out of NYC, “Your choice is FIVE!“) in the downstairs family room, the smell of pipe smoke from my grandfather, Pop-Tarts for breakfast (served to us with a knowing, I’m-your-grandmother-so-I’m-spoiling-you twinkle), and the general sense of safety and happiness that enveloped us as we enjoyed the holiday together.

I miss my Grandma, but I’m happy to remember the holidays she hosted and the feeling it still gives me. Everyone should be so lucky.

Merry Christmas, everyone.