Christmastime is So Emotional...

On Christmas Eve, Chris, my eldest son, and his wife, Jennifer, invited me to join them, and "the boys", Ethan and Edward.
Ethan and Chris greeted me at the door. As I followed them down the long hall that leads to the living room, Ethan scurried ahead, and stood in front of the 6 foot pine tree, its lights sparkling in the dimly lit room. "Put yours right there". Ethan pointed to a spot under the tree right in the middle for my gifts.

We all chatted for a bit, and it was time to open presents. Ethan helped me open mine--a custom album full of 2006's photos of the boys: Edward's birth, Ethan's birthday, and candid shots of the children with all of the grandparents and uncles.

Then, I gave Ethan his gift, a gift I had tucked away in a closet since early September. He stuck his hand into the Christmas bag and pulled out a tiny replica of the lighthouse in Sandy Hook, New Jersey. I was worried that he would be expecting a toy, but his eyes got wide as he realized what it was.

Ethan's dad and I took him to see his first lighthouse in Nantucket a couple of summers ago. Chris called me after they returned to New York. "Ethan saw the lighthouse from the plane window and practically danced in the aisle". And ever since, whenever I'm in a place where there is a lighthouse, I send him a picture postcard. Last September, I ran a triathlon at Sandy Hook National Park where the lighthouse is one of the oldest in the country--the lighthouse that many of our ancestors saw as they sailed out of the Atlantic into New York Harbor through a trecherous waterway bordered by the hook-shaped sandbar that is the site of over 200 shipwrecks.

Ethan and his dad, and my youngest son, Ben, surprised me that Sunday morning--they were in the crowd cheering when I went over the finish line. Ethan pointed to the white lighthouse nestled on a dune about a half mile away. I went to the lighthouse, now also a museum, that documents the lifesaving efforts that have occurred off the shoal. There, amidst the other souvenirs was this eight inch square lighthouse, and I knew it was just the right thing.

A little later, I watched as Jenn got Edward into his sleeper, his little mouth curled into a smile, and ready for the night after a quick bath. Ethan got shy all of a sudden and wouldn't think of kissing me goodbye. I put on my things, hugged Chris and Jenn, both looking relaxed after a very difficult December with sick babies along with the day to day of work and managing a household--and figuring out holiday plans that is the challenge of every extended family.

Somehow, though, as I walked back toward Central Park, I imagined that this Christmas was, perhaps, another milestone for their young family. This year, they learned how to navigate the murky waters of incorporating another infant into their family ( I laughingly asked them if they imagined life with two kids was like this--I don't think they answered) that requires exponentially more effort than a parent could possibly imagine until it happens!

I'm glad to be a part of their journey,lucky to be close, and will always treasure that quiet Christmas Eve.

M.C.