We always spend the day with my father's family.

We used to gather very early in the morning, and my cousins and I would play a Christmas cassette sung with the stylistic genius of Alvin & the Chipmunks. We would chase each other around, pretending to be impish elves. There was the Christmas production we four performed, a new play each year, and conceived on that very day. The adults indulged us as we fumbled our lines and giggled outrageously.

We'd sport puffy snow suits, resembling four pastel Michelin men, and frolic about in the snow. Snow was fun then. It wasn't a nuisance or a hazard—I don't even remember it being cold—it was just fun. We built snowmen, crafted snow forts, and summoned snow angels. We played hide-and-seek around the tall, peaked drifts, too in love with life to care that our footprints left telling clues as to our whereabouts. We bargained with the hand of time and imagined that if we could run hard enough and long enough, that nature could reverse and our mothers wouldn't call us inside as the light began to fail.

We sang carols and watched It's A Wonderful Life—on all three local stations. We ate cookies and candies, and sipped our hot cocoa with candy cane stir-sticks. We sat before the tree and vibrated with excitement as we looked at the wobbly piles of presents that rested there. Gift-unwrapping occurred after dinner, and not a moment sooner. You know, dinner never came soon enough?

Oh, so serious we became! School assignments! Studying! With finals in our recent memory, leisure did not come readily on this day. We leafed through A Christmas Carol, glanced at old, black and white family pictures. We listened somberly to the adults in the other room, and scanned the newspapers for articles of interest.

We wore wristwatches and glanced at them regularly. We played cut-throat games of euchre and I remember delving heavily into the sarcastic. The television played in the background, and filled up the empty noise usually left to the wolves of family interaction.

Dinner still never came soon enough. The sooner we had dinner, the sooner the day would end...and the sooner we could get back to our silent brooding. My goodness we were a surly sort! Teenagers...*pft!*

We did not gather until noon today. We sat together on inviting furniture and discussed our goings on. We reacquainted ourselves with one another. We laughed full and long, our bellies aching from the activity. The hugs seemed harder, more drawn out. The closeness was inexplicable...velvety bonds of steel linking our well-beings.

I left for a couple of hours to attend church tonight. I returned to find that I had been discussed. "Is Laura ok?" Before Thanksgiving, I sent out a letter to my family, explaining that Miles was gone, not to think badly of anyone, and begging that the subject be avoided during get-togethers. They have respected my wishes with utmost propriety.

Respectful as they are, the worry is rampant. They were a hug-y bunch today. I'm not talking about the butterfly kiss of meeting forms, but embraces that melt two into one. The embraces that you never want to end...those that invite you to exhale entirely, and become malleable in each others arms.

Repeatedly, they expressed pride. Subtly, almost unnoticeably. They wanted so badly for me to know their hearts, but refused to go against my wishes in bringing up the topic. Pride. Not shame. I guess when something goes against what you perceive to be the natural course of life, you think the worst thing that can be thought...and the fear burns hot when you imagine it in the heads of your loved ones. I have been hanging low. I have been avoiding family gatherings. I have been stupid.

Today, I felt so alive, so very sentimental and warm. It has been a rough year, but if I had to go through it all again every year for the rest of my life just to reach today at the end of each twelvemonth, I would do it. We didn't play in the snow or put on a play today...however, we were sarcastic, and dinner couldn't come soon enough—it smelled heavenly! We teased one another mercilessly, we shared in successes, commiserated in woes...in short, we loved.