Today is so cold that the only place to be is home. It is 18°, but with the wind it feels like 5°. I gasped when I went outside. I’m happy to have nowhere I need to be, and I have my gingerbread house for later. It will be a good day, every Christmas Eve always is.

Already this has been a busy Christmas Eve morning. First, I put on the coffee. There are priorities. Next, I brought out my walking stick and used it to prop up the front fence which had toppled during the wind storm. Lifting the fence was almost painful. Next chore, I picked up the tipped cow near the other fence. I didn’t pick up the flag and flag holder which had been blown over the hill. House chores were next. A chalkware Magi and pieces of its head were swept. The king had been a victim of Nala, the destroyer of worlds. Lastly I noticed the entire stable is gone. It was old and wooden. I know it is probably in the yard but it is too cold to hunt. The survivors are put away.

There is good news. My tree is lit and standing tall. It is decorated in memories. Three round ornaments covered in fading red leather were gifts from Michelle, a friend from Peace Corps days who lived in Kumasi. She had had these ornaments since our Ghana days but decided to give them to me as she knew they would grace my tree every year. Pinocchio is there too. My mother and I bought the ornaments in Florence at a toy store. A cloth heart came from Budapest. A few sea creatures hang off smaller branches. They are molas from Panama. A couple of round compounds and a drum are from Ghana, from my first trip back. There are cross-stitch ornaments I made for my mother which came back to me. There are some she stitched. My favorite is a cross-stitch with a K and three kings. It is high on my tree away from the destroyer. At the top of the tree is an ornament made from blocks. I made block name ornaments for every family member the year my sister and her family came from Colorado for Christmas. This ornament says Chick, the nickname my mother got as a kid. It is the one I made for her. I hang it every year, and I remember my mother and all the Christmases she gave to us.