Saturday, December 24, 2011

blue christmas

It's Christmas Eve morning... Every year up until now, I've always gone with my dad and my brother to a diner in town for soup and rice pudding.  Each table has its own little jukebox, with Christmas music available no matter what time of year it is, and we always made sure to bring quarters so that we could listen to Winter Wonderland, Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree, and Blue Christmas.  We'd take a stroll in the park, too-- when we were little, this was so my mom could have some time to wrap Christmas presents without us knowing about it.  I don't know what we thought she was doing-- we always had to wait in the car while my dad checked if we could come in yet.  But he would walk around the park, reciting the first few lines of "The Village Smithee," a poem he had to write a hundred times as a punishment in school.  If he could find a bench to stand on while he was reciting it, he was even more pleased.  Zach and I would tug on his arms-- "C'mon, Dad!  Stop it!  We're cold, let's get in the car!"  But Dad would always insist we walk around the park just one more time.  I would give anything to be able to take just one more walk around the park.

We're having a blue Christmas without you, Dad.  Love and miss you so much.


  1. Je vous comprends Julie Rose et vous envoie toutes mes meilleurs pensées pour ce Noël Bleu en espérant que vous sentiez tout de même la présence de votre papa auprès de vous car je suis sure qu'il ne vous a pas quitté

    I understand you Julie Rose and send you all my best thoughts for this Christmas Blue and hope you still feel the presence of your father with you because I am sure that you have not left.

  2. Oh, sweetness, what a beautiful memory. I only wish I could have made your wish come true. Your sweet dad is dearly missed by all. XO

  3. Sedna: Merci beaucoup pour le commentaire douces. Cela m'a fait sourire pendant un moment triste. J'espère que vous avez une heureuse nouvelle année!

    Taryn: Thank you... He is so, so missed. Which I suppose is much better than not being missed. I'll always hold the memories of our Christmas walks dear to my heart.


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