Last night it started raining around ten. I heard the drops. Today is dismal. It is a dark, chilly morning. Everything is still damp from last night. A wind is blowing the last of the leaves to the ground. The dogs were out and back quickly.

Tonight is our uke Christmas party. It was a week ago when I fell coming out of uke practice. Tonight is my return to the fold.

I played my Christmas album the other day and thought about when we made it. I was in the sixth grade. Guy Lombardo came to my parish, St. Patrick’s, every year to play at a dance. He was a friend of one of the parish priests. When Guy Lombardo decided he would make a Christmas album with children’s voices, he chose us. The front of the album cover says, “Recorded Live at Town Hall, St. Patrick’s Parish, Stoneham, Massachusetts.” I remember the day we recorded it during April vacation. The band, the Royal Canadiens, Guy Lombardo and Kenny Gardner, the singer, were on the stage. Under the stage was where all the recording equipment was. We, my classmates and I, were standing together in front of the stage. We had song books with all the lyrics. First we’d practice each song then sing for the recording. Kenny Gardner would sing each song first then we’d join in. For some songs we had several takes. The recording took all day. At the end, Guy Lombardo thanked us and gave us all Hoodsies. Despite my talents, I haven’t recorded another album.

My sister in Colorado is the only one of us who still has her original stocking. We all had the same stockings, red with a white cuff around the top. On the fronts of the white cuffs our names were written in gold glitter. We hung them every Christmas on the small bannister at the bottom of the stairs. We never questioned the lack of a chimney, Santa’s traditional entry. We all accepted that Santa was magical, and he would find a way.

The morning is a delight, bright and sunny and calm. It is a warm day, in the high 40’s. The dogs love this weather and stay outside a long while. I check periodically. Henry sniffs the yard. Nala does a zoomie or two.

My wounds are now black and blue. They are healing. When I’m in a store, people see my face and turn away. I don’t know if it is politeness or horror. Maybe it is a little of both.

Yesterday was a busy day. I was out and about doing errands. I made seven stops, most in the morning. My laundry is put away, the trash is dumped, the dogs have food, my car has gas, and I bought a few groceries for me including more grape-nut custard. I got to eat it before Nala did. It was a banner day but an exhausting day.

At the beginning of December when I was a kid, we had an advent wreath, an evergreen wreath with four candles around it and one more candle in the middle. Each of the four candles represented an Advent Sunday, the countdown to Christmas, so the first candle was lit on the first Sunday of Advent and an additional candle was lit every week until all the candles were lit. The middle candle was lit on Christmas Eve. We had a sheet from school with the prayers to be said as we lit the candles. I remember standing around the wreath while the prayers were said. I don’t remember a single prayer. I remember having to take turns lighting the candles and being mesmerized by the flickering flames.

We had bubble lights on our Christmas tree. They stood up straight at the ends of the branches. The bottoms of the lights lit up and were different colors: red, green and yellow. A small vial of liquid stood in the middle of the colored base. We used to sit and watch the bubble lights hoping to be the one to find the first bubbler. It was an every night contest. I have that set from my childhood, but I don’t light it. I’m a bit afraid of the old cord and whatever the liquid is. I do have a new set of bubble lights. I put them at the ends of the branches and watch for the first bubbler. It is tradition.