Last Christmas

It's funny the things you remember.

Like most young(ish) married couples split between two families who both live within an hour of us, our Christmases are always really frenetic. We go to My Beloved's Mom and Dad's house for presents and dinner on Christmas Eve, immediately head to my church for midnight Mass (I used to, but no longer, sing in the choir there), come home, sleep, open our presents in the morning, then go over to my Mom and Dad's in the afternoon to open more presents and have a second Christmas dinner.

Busy to say the least.

Last year, being 6 months pregnant, I was ordered by My Beloved to have a nap in the afternoon on Christmas Eve to ensure that I could make it through the long evening in good humour and good health.

I agreed (who, at 6 months pregnant DOESN'T agree to naps???) but told him he'd have to read me and Peanut a story first. I chose How the Grinch Stole Christmas and we all snuggled up in bed to enjoy a blissfully quiet few minutes all to ourselves. Just the three of us.

I can remember it like it was yesterday. I listened to the story as though I'd never heard it before, all the while dreaming of the time when My Beloved and I would be reading to our little Peanut "for real". It was the most magical moment of last Christmas for me, and it had nothing to do with presents or trees or turkey. It was the three of us - a family - being close, safe and loved. That was Christmas.

I told My Beloved that we would make that a tradition. Every year on Christmas Eve he would read The Grinch to Peanut and me. How wonderful, I remember thinking, that we'd started the tradition before he was even born.

I imagine the pages of the book will stay closed on Saturday. So much of the magic of my life died with Thomas, I'm afraid to say. At least for now. But thank God we had that sweetest of moments with him last year. I'll never forget what it was like to feel that everything was right with the world and that we, my son and I, were so safe.

It's funny the things you remember.