This Christmas….

It happened at the oddest time, and it happens every year, like clockwork, but this time was different.  I didn’t have the luxury of shedding the bottled up tears.  They will flow soon.

I made a run to Publix to get the freshest of everything to begin the feast preparation for my family.  I had my mental list because half the fun is forgetting most things and having to go up and down the same aisles so many times that the employees ask if I need help finding anything.  It happened in the very first section of the store, not good for people like me that tend to have a free flow of tears when emotions hit.  I don’t know how I made it through.

Christmas day shares a birthday with my oldest son and we have a tradition of Belgium waffles.  There will be several choices as to toppings and his favorite boysenberry syrup.  I approached the fruit because I can’t have just meats and cheeses for the mid day snack that we share while waiting for the turkey, I need to have a great vegetarian offering for the vegetarian youngest daughter, and that is where I spied the grapefruit.  Fresh Florida grapefruit.

Every year growing up, we had the same breakfast on Christmas morning.  My sweet, charming, funny Grandfather would make us runny scrambled eggs of which I have no doubt are considered better than actually cooked through, sausages and those darn grapefruits.  They were fresh harvested from the giant grapefruit tree in the front yard and if you were really lucky (mostly when you were under 15) or decidedly unlucky (15 and over, because you know you had plans with friends and that dirty tree was not part of your plans) you were called on to get the grapefruit.  I was not encouraged to climb the tree for some reason, but rather grab the low hangers.

My development can be traced to those grapefruit.  When I was young, I had to fight for the sugar amount that I wanted.  My grandmother would get semi-irate at the amount that I felt was necessary to negate the actual grapefruit flavor.  I don’t think there was enough sugar when I was a young teen.  When I was in my late teens and twenties, I started to like the taste and sugar was not as much an ingredient but rather a lesser ingredient.  I moved to the sugar free options for health reasons and now I am either sweetener free or stevia if necessary.  I like grapefruit.

There is something to be said of tradition and the knowledge that the safety of it are there.  I would give anything to go back to those days, just one Christmas, at almost any cost.  I would hug my Grandfather and not make fun of the eggs.  I would tell him that I am certain that those barbaric persons that eat them cooked hard are just not as civilized as we are.  I would help my Grandmother much more. The moments in the kitchen, just chatting while drying dishes are priceless to me.  I would hug my Uncle John and thank him for his steadiness that he showed growing up and tell him how much I admired him.  I would crack jokes with my Uncle Ken like we used to and tell him to never stop joking; he’s stopped joking, it’s sad. I would appreciate my mother more for her good qualities and stop berating any that I didn’t like.  I would play with my younger cousins and not act like I was too big for my britches.  I would thank my Aunt Kim for her example that she set, always a lady.  I would pray the day never ended.

As I cook the traditional items for my family, the things we co-opted from both my traditions and my husband’s traditions, I hope that my children will cherish the memories that we share and my grandchildren will hold dear the never changing, delicious traditions that we have together.

May you gather with family or friends or both and feel as much love as I do for mine.  May your Christmastime or Holiday be filled with warmth and meaning.  Bless all of you and yours.