It’s nine o’clock on the last night of 2024 and the house is quiet. Just the husband, the dog and me here, all of us getting ready to go to bed after a great week of fun with our family. Our son and his sons and wife arrived Christmas Eve and were joined by our granddaughter with her husband and three happy children on Christmas day. Such fun. Then our grandson arrived to spend a few days with us and we all had such a good time together. Even had our daughter-in-law’s brothers over to watch a football game and we got to see our other granddaughter with her husband and baby for a little while. This was my kind of holiday.

New Years Eve is very different at 78 years old with an 80-year-old husband. Our times of dancing past midnight and bribing the band to play just a little longer are in the past. No fancy dress and hair do now. Didn’t spend an hour on make-up or make an extra trip to the liquor store.

My husband and I had our first date January 31, 1964. It was a house party where everyone was laughing, dancing, and having a drink or two. For many years after that we always had a party or a dance to go to with friends. Everyone got dressed up for the occasion and put on their happiest faces. I enjoy those happy time memories. So many of those folks are gone now. Some have died and others moved away or just lost touch. Those who are still in the neighborhood are in their beds now, just like us. In the sixty years since that first party a lot has changed, but we are still celebrating, just a little earlier in the evening and with no hangover for the first day of the new year. I like our quiet time and I liked the wilder times too. To everything there is a season.

Christmas 1959. It all begins right after Thanksgiving with the party to trim the tree. There are nine of us living in the house. Mom and Dad, my brother and sister, our two foster brothers and two cousins. Each of us kids have invited a friend; great aunt Louise is always included in our festivities, and Mom and Dad have included some friends. Dad and the boys have found a nice Cedar tree about six feet tall and thick with branches. Dad has put on the strings of lights, managed to replace most of the burnt-out bulbs and secured the tree stand well enough we probably won’t knock the whole thing over. There are a few boxes of old ornaments to be reused every year, new garland of tinsel and a bowl of popcorn to be strung with a needle and heavy thread. This chore goes to me mostly and I drafted my best friend to help.

Before anything goes on the tree we have punch or egg nog and cookies. There’s fruit cake and lots of fudge too. Then, with a bunch of sugar high kids bouncing around and itching to get started we all pick an ornament and place it carefully on a branch, then another and another until the last glass globe is hung and Dad places the foil star at the top. Viola! The season of magic has begun

The old white house on the corner if filled with music, laughter, smells, way too much food, family, friends and neighbors on Christmas day. First thing in the morning is opening all the packages and pretending for the youngest that Santa left the toys that are not wrapped. Breakfast is biscuits and bacon washed down with orange juice and then we all pitch in putting everything away and get dressed in special clothes for the occasion.

About mid-morning the part of the holiday that I love best begins when the aunts and uncles begin to drop in with my cousins. We all have cookies and snacks and brag, or even gloat, about what we got for Christmas. While the adults have coffee in the dining room I get out a game to play in the living room floor. After an hour or so they all leave and we straighten up the place and put out lunch. Mom has outdone herself again with ham, turkey, dressing, sweet potatoes, green beans, baked beans, deviled eggs, mashed potatoes, and hot rolls. Soon our closest family friends show up and we all enjoy the food in the company of chosen family. When everyone is filled up the kids are tasked with cleaning up the kitchen before playing. We really feel like a nap, but while we were doing dishes Aunt Louise has settled at the piano and those not on kitchen duty are singing carols.

Aunt Louise is an accomplished musician and a family friend, Bobby, is also talented at the piano, so they play together. As the afternoon wears on and Aunt Louise and Bobby each have a cocktail the music changes from hymns to boogie woogie and Mom and one of the cousins are dancing. Soon most of us are dancing and singing and the old house rattles a bit. My dad and the older cousins are smoking and playing cards at the dining room table. They have a beer or two and the tales begin. That time two of the cousins got caught sneaking a chew of grandpa’s tobacco and threw up all over the place. That time one of the uncles fell off a mule. Stories they all had heard before but all laughed one more tiime.

Finally the day is done. We have put the house back in order, mostly. After just one more piece of cake I have gone to my room and settled in my bed with a new book. The boys and my sister have gone to bed and Mom and Dad are in the living room with a cup of chocolate to finish the day.

There have been many, many holiday celebrations since then, each special in its own way, but I would be ecstatic to relive one from my youth with all my special people in one place, feeling happy and secure. What I do now though is celebrate the family I made with my husband and make this season as bright and warm as I possibly can. Looking forward to a different kind of joy with the craziness of small children’s excitement and the sweet pleasure of my family all together in my house.

Well, I survived November again this year. It may get easier some day and I hope it does. Now moving into the holiday season with a vengeance. So busy that I haven’t made time to write about my days or events, but I am enjoying myself so much. Thanksgiving was a success with great food (I really can cook) and the company of many of my favorite people. No fussing and fighting and plenty of laughter. I wish everyone could have it so good.

I found some holiday spirit somewhere and now the decorating and shopping and baking have begun. I dragged out all the trees, wreaths, candles and even found a bunch of mistletoe to hang up. My son will be here with his family, my granddaughter with her husband and three kids and my grandson with his girlfriend. That is most of those I love to spend time with. I wish my brother could be here too, but maybe next year.

It’s interesting to me how life changes from stage to stage and how little we know about what comes next and how surprising it is to be content with circumstances that once would have been boring beyond belief. In younger days fun was always an active thing. I loved to do something, to experience it rather than observe. An evening out had to include dancing, or bowling, or roller skating and the company of others doing the same thing. Loved to host parties and meet new people.

Then we added children to the mix and fun included birthday parties, cub scouts and brownies, little league and swim team. When I think back to my young mother self I am amazed at just how much I could do in a day. I loved those times of constant activity and time with my children and their friends. Kids can make one see the world through fresh eyes. They can also challenge your patience and warm your heart, maybe at the same time. When the kids became teenagers they preferred the company of their peers to hanging out with mom, so the letting go process began.

Then suddenly they were grown, got married and started their own families. That’s when the husband and I moved to the empty nest phase. It was great, at first, and we spent time together with friends doing grown up things. We played golf and got into boating. Days moved a bit less frantically and there was more time to enjoy peaceful days.

I am not real sure how to label the next phase. The one that added the responsibility of aging parents at the same time grandchildren were a priority and pleasure. There is less time for social life in this stage and many of the friends we enjoyed were also limited in spare time due to family needs. A typical day would include giving a parent, child or grandchild a ride to work, school or the doctor before going to the office. Then at the end of the day check on a parent, make dinner and baby sit a grandchild so their parent can have a bit of time on their own. This time had as many obligations as being a young mother but not quite as many pleasures.

Retirement made handling it all bit easier and then the parents passed away and there were all the arrangements to handle. The stuff to find something to do with and the estate to manage. And, the empty place they left behind to figure out and adjust to. We all expect to become adult orphans somewhere in middle age, but preparing for it doesn’t really help. As with so much, life after the loss of our parents is not what we expected.

Now I suppose this stage is trying to accept that I am elderly. I don’t feel elderly, but at seventy-eight the label is appropriate. I play with three great grandchildren and manage to keep up with them. I can still do most of what I want except sit in a full lotus and get up from the floor quickly. My world is smaller in many ways. Once there were many, many people to be with and share life with. Now those I grew up with are mostly gone, either dead or far away or just settled down to stay home a lot. It’s like when I was a baby my world was mom and dad and those in our household. As time went by there was extended family added and then school friends and co-workers, and neighbors. Now my world is back to mostly my household and close family. I suspect eventually it will be just my son and grands as my life winds down and finally ends.

The last few weeks have been hard. The next few will probably be better, but the holidays have their own sadness as well as celebrations. My daughter’s birthday was the 14th and the 15th was the anniversary of her death. These days are difficult for me and especially so for her son, daughter, brother, father and husband. We don’t talk a lot about it. Each of us trying to protect the others and really just can’t find the words or get them out past the lump in our throats. This is probably not the best way to manage this grief, but we are doing what we can for now.

My husband had surgery for a rotator cuff a little over three weeks ago and has been unable to do much of anything for himself so has to rely on me for his care. I am glad to do it, but he is an independent sort and is really tired of having to have help with his socks, his icepack, pulling up his bed covers, cutting up his dinner, and especially his shower. Thankfully he is now able to do some of those things and will begin physical therapy in a couple of days. It all balances out as life goes on. He comforts me in my sadness and I make him laugh at his limitations.

All this has me looking back on how death has been a presence in my life, almost from the beginning. I was not yet five when my maternal grandmother, Bammie, died and nine when her husband followed her. My infant sister lived only four days and I vividly recall that funeral. So much sadness and so many people trying to help with food, visits, flowers, letters and just being there. Then in high school both my paternal grandparents passed away leaving another empty place behind. My dad was only fifty-six when he died far too soon and I was in my thirties. That one was so hard, not only because of my overwhelming grief but I had to try to explain to my son and daughter when they were only nine and eleven. I cannot remember talking to them about it even though I know I did.

Since then, my mom, the in-laws, and most of my cousins are gone, some close friends and neighbors, and co-workers. I miss them all as I put ornaments on the Christmas tree and prepare for the Thanksgiving meal. No more do I hear my mom and Aunt Louise fussing over the dressing and cranberry relish. No more my cousins sparing over the wishbone. So much that enriched my life left in the past, just memories that my husband is a bit tired of me yakking about, but he is sweet about it.

These musings make me remember a line from Forrest Gump that I repeat to myself often. Dying is just a part of living, Forrest. We all die someday.

Just a part of living, but only a part. I am not sure how or why, but I always get back to living. Doing and being and thinking and planning and hoping. Living. Even on the hardest of the recent days I made the bed, drank my coffee and went to the gym. I visited with the great grandkids and we laughed and played. Lots of hugs and kisses and sneaking some candy when daddy wasn’t looking. Life is good and I am enjoying most of it. Memories are mostly happy ones, and I indulge in a bit of nostalgia as I go about my days. I am fortunate to have a son who calls me a few times a week and keeps me up to date on his family. He will be here with his boys and wife at Christmas so that what I am most looking forward to now. My first grandson is coming home for Thanksgiving so that day will be a treat.

Right this minute I have a glass of wine at my elbow as I type, and the dear old dog is snoring at my feet. The husband and I had a nice dinner and now he is settled at the television where I will soon be also. Life is good.

What a week it has been. So hopeful on Monday and then devastated Tuesday night. My fear became real. It is still with me, but not as overwhelming as it was initially. It is likely that hard times are coming for many of us, especially those who are just one pay day from homeless and hungry. Can we even hope that those in power have compassion? Now that they don’t need our vote anytime soon do they even know we exist? It would be so easy to sink into despair.

Then Wednesday came and there was a bit of time to process it all. The sun rose as it always has and slipped below the horizon at the end of the day. When the new (slightly used) president takes office we will know very quickly what to expect. That is still several weeks away so wringing our hands in fearful anticipation serves no purpose. So, I met an old friend for a beer at the end of the day and we talked about shared memories and our families and friends. We laughed and enjoyed a good meal.

Thursday I woke up determined to have a good day. So I made a plan. First coffee, hot with sugar and cream and the dog for company. Check. Make the husband a good breakfast, make the bed, finish the laundry and pay some bills. Check. Go to the gym for at least an hour. Check. Long, lazy hot bath and put on soft pajamas. Check. Simple supper and finish reading the novel that has been neglected for several days. Check. Have a glass of good wine and go to bed. Check. Most of the fear of earlier in the week is on the back burner now.

On Friday I made a list of chores that need doing around the house and then tackled about half of them. Managed to hit the gym again and have a nice dinner with the husband, and of course the dog. Still worried about times to come, but not as much.

Now on Saturday night I have knocked out most of the to do list, had phone calls with my favorite people and have settled in with more of the wine and some television — no news allowed.

I am making a conscious decision to move from fear to hope and I think I am on the way. Tomorrow is likely to be much like most of my days and that is pretty good. I hope to get hugs and laughs from my great grandkids and that is likely to happen. I hope that there are more people who want to do good things than bad. I hope for health and know that depends on what I do. I hope the rest of my family are okay and so far, they seem to be. I hope my community is made up of people who are kind to each other and I hope those things I have feared are less likely than they seem.

At the end of a busy day with good music playing I sat down with a novel that I am about half-way through with a glass of wine and a plate of cheese at my side, the dog sleeping at my feet and feeling all cozy in my soft robe and fuzzy slippers. I was still warm from my bath and enjoying the scent of lavender from a candle on the table and from the powder on my body. All my favorite relaxers at once. Oh, yeah, and just a tiny buzz from the gummy I had before the bath. Too much? Maybe, but man did I feel good. Good all over.

Then the husband came to sit beside me and I rested my head on his shoulder. It probably doesn’t get better than this. I could probably do this just about every evening, but would it become ordinary? Does one need the crazy days in order to appreciate the great ones? I think probably so. Human nature seems to require that we always desire more or better. Even my desire to repeat that perfect evening is a wish for more, even if it’s more of the same.

When I am content with the current situation it seems that after a bit of time I wish I could share my happiness with someone who can’t be here or wish to be in a place I visited that I want to return to. A memory of a past time sneaks into my mind and I wish I could do that again. I think maybe this perfect time might be just a bit better with a fireplace or a hot tub to finish it off. Perhaps being content is not my natural state. However, I am looking forward to having another perfect evening soon and I will try to just love it and leave wishing for more alone.

Usually when I sit down to write here I choose to explore the mundane and ordinary; you know, my life. A good day, like this one, would include some exercise, something good to eat, quiet time with the husband and not so quiet time with the great grandkids and a glass of good wine before bed. Today I also had a phone visit with my brother in Tampa talking about the coming hurricane.

My brother has been in Tampa since he graduated from college about fifty years ago so he has hunkered down to ride out a storm or two and has it down pat. In his younger days he would have a hurricane party with friends but we are more mature now and don’t party as much or as hard. Still, from up here in Kentucky I get a bit concerned.

My neighborhood is just as ordinary as I am. When my children were young and in school the houses on our block mostly had families with children who ventured from one house to another to play and rode their bikes all over our little town. This was in the 70’s when kids knew to get home before the streetlights came on and every parent was a host to all the kids their children knew. Now all those kids are approaching middle age and the houses in my neighborhood are mostly the dwelling place of folks who live alone. Across the street is a single father with teenagers, three widows and one elderly couple, no kids. On my side of the street we have a couple next door on one side and an elderly single man on the other. Behind us there is a single man and an empty house where the widower died a few months ago. It’s mostly quiet here. It’s an easy place to be.

I wouldn’t want to appear terribly dull. We do go places and do things. There are festivals of many kinds here at our park and in nearby towns that we like to attend. I particularly like finding good music and maybe a drink or two to wile away an evening. We have a boat moored at a marina on Kentucky lake and spend summer days soaking up sun and making boat trips to lakeside villages for a meal or event. When we travel it usually includes visiting family or friends. With my brother in Tampa and our son in New Hampshire we have toured some great places with each of them. It’s nice to be retired and able to just go if so inclined. Some days we get in the car, pick a direction, and drive. Maybe see a road that we haven’t been down, so we go to see where it winds up. Once found a farm down a country lane that makes cheeses and ships them all over the country. The smoked gouda is my favorite. Only once that I can recall we actually got lost and saw a whole lot more of Southern Illinois than planned.