December 19, 2008
My mother’s parents lived in a big Victorian house about two hours’ drive from where we lived. The ground floor had 14 foot ceilings, and they always had a grand Christmas tree, lavishly decorated. When we had taken off our snowy boots and coats, we assembled in the more casual of the two parlors. Grandfather would ceremoniously fling open the double pocket doors that connected the two rooms revealing the tree in all its glory. We’d gasp with delight and gaze at the glittering branches while our grandparents and parents smiled. I’ll never forget that pleasure, both given and received.