It snowed today. A beautiful drapery of white powdery flakes covered the sky from morning until evening. So lovely was the scenery that an overwhelming sense of Christmas spirit engulfed me. Suddenly I felt an urge to wrap the few Christmas presents I had purchased in the days before I flew to my parents house. Hurrying down to the basement, I gathered stored rolls of colored wrapping paper, shiny bows, and folded boxes. Trudging up the carpeted steps one-by-one, my hands and arms struggled to hold on to the menagerie of mismatch until I simply let everything fall to the floor.
One by one I pulled out gifts that needed wrapping. Gifts I had purchased (and since forgotten) in the days before I cared for my dying mother. Among them: an argyle sweater for my oldest son, Jayson; a Seinfeld trivia game for my youngest son, Justin, and a new, navy-blue golf jacket for my dear husband, Gary. There were little gifts for them too. The standard set of boxer shorts; packages of needed, white undershirts; and matching sets of slippers and socks. Three pairs of warm and woolly gloves rested nearby, each in a different color.
As I carefully cut and trimmed green, gold, and red foiled paper, a feeling of giddiness came upon me. Regardless of what had happened during the last few weeks, Christmas was coming.
The spirit of the holiday was upon me. How glorious!
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