It all depends on what you believe.

Christmas has come and gone, as it always does. Dustin and I lament the speed of it all. We do so much to prepare and then in a blink, it's all over. My boys, who are either humoring me or who do still believe in a flying sleigh with a jolly fat elf, go to bed with little hassle and await the morning's bounty. They wake at 3am and one of them tackles their sleeping grandpa, who instead of knocking some sense into the attacker, joins in the rumpus. Through the fog in my head, I see a head streak by my bedroom, headed for the glow of Christmas lights in the living room. Dustin gets up and points them back to bed. Sometime between 4 and 5am a head goes by again. Again, Dustin gets out of bed to steer our overly eager offspring back into bed, if not back into sleep. At 6am a face closes in on mine and states that he has waited 3 hours now, and can we please get up! I send him back to bed until 7am. I am met with much resistance, but the closing of my eyes finalizes the deal, until another attempt at 6:30. Not a second after the clock strikes 7, both boys are in my room explaining that it is now TIME TO GET UP!!!!

I remember the excitement of my youth. The lights beckoning, wondering if Santa brought me the boots I REALLY REALLY REALLY wanted, or the Cabbage Patch Doll that the rest of the world had to have and I was just sure I would never get, the anticipation as we got closer to the end of unwrapping the packages since the best presents were always magically placed at the back. I also remember the wonder that I felt when I looked at the plate that now held only cookie crumbs, the empty mug of milk and the quickly scrawled "Thank You" note beside the plate. I felt real joy seeing my parents and sister open gifts that I had purchased with my own money, once I was old enough to do so. The love that filled our home as family members showed up to join us for dinner. The whole day was wondrous. And so I drag my tired butt out of bed, wake my sleeping baby and walk into that land of wonder my boys still live in.

I was certain this would be the year Santa would die. I have been preparing myself for it for the last couple years, just waiting for the inevitable question. When I grew bold enough to ask, I was 10. And when I learned the truth it was as if a family member had died. In memory, my mom was so cavalier about killing Santa. She simply asked what I believed and when I, trying to trick my mother into telling me the truth, said I didn't believe, she said I was correct. That was that. I still get a pit in my stomach when I revisit that memory. Sometimes I wish my parents had just let me live happily ever after in my faerie tale. Perhaps that's why I stray away from really discussing the logistics of a flying sleigh and 8 tiny reindeer with my two boys. We all need to grow up, but not yet! Right?!

The question of what Christmas is really about came up on Christmas Eve, and not from one of my children. Avery was in his deep mode, asking about good and evil and religion, which led to my mom-in-law asking what Christmas was really about? I've always tried to be very careful about my opinions on religion around my boys. I really don't believe it's my place to tell them how to believe. There are many doors that lead to many paths that very possibly all lead to the same place. That's just my take. What they end up following if they chose to follow is ultimately up to them. And so when the question of what we're really celebrating on Christmas comes up, I preface my explanation with the same phrase I am accustomed to using whenever a philosophical question arises from one of my boys or someone in their presence. It all depends on what you believe.

I try to base my explanations on the facts as I believe them to be. I also do my best to impress upon my children that really, what everything in this life is all about, is being the best person you can be. Spreading cheer, sharing wealth, looking at, not through, the pain that is out there, saying what you mean and meaning what you say, living with the best of intentions, being responsible to your family and yourself. Christmas is a great day to remember all those things and carry them forward with you into the quickly approaching new year. My boys are 11 and 9. I am mom. I'm sure they want to tell me to shut up, but instead they smile and say, "hmmm."

This last year has been a challenge in many ways. Many moments have had me sitting back saying, "hmmm." There are a great number of people in my life who are wise and have good info, good advice and who care and dare to show that they do. That doesn't stop me from wanting to tell them to shut up every now and then. But really, I know that what everyone has to say can be used productively, even the negative comments. If it weren't for the support that Dustin and I have been blessed with through the last really difficult months I am not sure how we would have come out. One of my old friends was wondering why, when a number changes in our calendar year, do people suddenly think that their life is going to change too? As people, I think we have a difficult time seeing each day as an opportunity to make necessary changes. The new year gives us an opportunity to reflect and say our thanks, cut our losses and move forward. To see what didn't work over the last year and change things in the new year. Hence, resolutions.

I have never been a big fan of making a New Year's Resolution. The only real explanation I can give, is that I don't like to set myself up for failure. How's that for some insight into my psyche? I don't need the added stress of a resolution hanging over my head every time I pick up a cookie instead of a carrot. Every time I say "fuck" instead of some less offensive idiom. Every time I snap at my children instead of taking a deep breath and explaining something for the umpteenth time. For me, it's a whole lot easier to simply stay on the path I am currently on. I strive to be conscious of my actions and aware of how they affect myself and others. Less stress equals more success in my world.

I will still reflect on the old year and try to put behind me the people and ideas that haven't helped motivate and encourage. I will still look forward and think of all the new year could possibly present and how I will handle each new person and idea. I will continue to hold dear the people and ideas that have held me and my family in their hands, hearts and minds through all times, up and down. As always I will thank my lucky stars, the heavens, and my angels all around that I am still breathing and can celebrate the coming of another new day. I believe this next year has to be better than the last, but that doesn't mean it won't be worse!

In the first month of this new year we will have a new place to call home. We will gain another bedroom, a dining room, and a kitchen with counter space all rolled into 800 square feet more of living space and shed approximately $250,000 of debt. I find it hard to imagine not calling my little shoe box house on Chippewa Trail home, but am very grateful that we will have a new place to call home that is just a couple of streets over. I will return to my new job as the elementary school librarian, shaking up the libraries and encouraging kids to read! I am reminded that as bad as things can get there is truly a light at the end. Dustin and I are not there yet, and really I hope not to be anytime soon. Reaching that light means my days here are over and I have achieved all I was meant to achieve. Instead, we will continue to strive ahead, one foot in front of the other, hoping more light falls upon us as each day passes into months into new years. I can't help but believe it will.

Happy New Year!

All Things For A Reason

My life over the last several months has been like riding a roller-coaster, in the dark, with a dying flashlight. Life. I'm not sure how or why the twists and turns of fate have led where they have, but I find myself right where I am meant to be. What we thought was going to be, is not. What we hoped would be, will not. What we had no idea of, is. I've often heard the saying "All things happen for a reason," but I've filed it right next to "God will never lead you to, what He cannot lead you through." In tough times, it's pretty darn hard to see the light through the impenetrable fog... and the tunnel seems to lead to dead end after dead end. I do believe that this life is not for me to have all figured out, though I can't help but try!

I interviewed against two others for the Library Clerk position at the Elementary Schools last week on Wednesday afternoon. I found out I had the job later that same day! I started just yesterday, in order to receive a certain amount of training before the woman who is currently in the position moves on to the Middle School and High School library. I am a full-time employee in a district where "full-time" and "classified" are like oil and water. There is no money, and so, I will work full-time as a part-time library clerk between two elementary schools. The Primary School has double the student population and so has more need. I will work there 3 days out of the week. Riviera, where my heart lies, and my son is in fourth grade, will get me 2 days out of the week.

My first two days have been full of learning, hands-on, how to check books in, check books out, add books to the system, remove books from the system, add students to the system, remove students from the system, assess fines, repair books, locate missing books (if they can be located), shelve books, how to quell a small riot over bookmarks, how to smile at 400+ children and their teachers and commit as many of their names to memory as possible... all of this, and I haven't even made it to my second school yet. The current librarian wasn't kidding when she said I'd get a lot of practice, and there would be a lot of repetition, in this first week. Overall, that is what the job is, repetition!

Doing the same thing again and again may make some cringe, but for me, there is comfort in the familiar. I find satisfaction in seeing the books come in, find their way back to the shelves, and go right back out. It means the books are being used the way they are supposed to be. They are being read!! Not all of the kids who enter the library are excited to be there. Not all of the kids want to read. But, when you can find that thing they love, or even like, in a book... it's a match made in book-lover's heaven. I really hope my love of books and reading rubs off on the students who enter my libraries. I love saying that... my libraries!!!

Leaving Taluelah has been made much easier for me than I thought it would be thanks to the help of wonderful friends. It's only been two days, and in the few moments I have to think of anything other than books and what I'm supposed to be learning and retaining, I miss my girl. There is so little down time though that the moments to dwell are few and far in between. It is great, at the end of my day, to walk through a door and see my sweet Lue's smiling face and get her big hugs and kisses. Our time at night seems much more valuable these days. And it's doubtful she'll be leaving our bed anytime soon, cuddle time is a necessary luxury after being away from each other all day.

The boys have stepped up to the proverbial plate and are helping with dinner dishes and other household chores. There is no argument in the morning, even though it is a much earlier wake-up call. They see a need, and a tired momma, and are doing what they can to lighten the load. Days like these I feel like I've done something right in the job of parenting. As the days turn into weeks, and weeks into months, I am sure a routine will establish itself and we will all fall into it accordingly.

We are still in the search for a new place to live. It seems the sale of our house will go through, and we will close January 12th as scheduled. We now have less than a month to figure something out. Unfortunately, the homes we have heard of that are owned by someone we know, or that are owned by a friend of a friend, are not big enough to accommodate us. We need a 3 bedroom. There is no point in renting another 2 bedroom house. We're bursting at the seams here. The idea of working full-time with Dustin gone all week, packing an entire house during the holidays, and trying to locate a new place to live is exhausting. I'm not sure where to begin, and so I go round and round in circles hoping something will happen that will stop the spin.

Finding the time to write has become harder. It is not something I am willing to give up though. I will just have to work harder at fitting it into my schedule. The time I have in the evenings at home during the week is reserved for my kiddos. The time I have on the weekend, when Dustin is home, is reserved for family. It worked for me to take the time to write tonight, because Taluelah has already fallen asleep. Waking up at 6:30am has completely thrown her schedule off. Bedtime comes much earlier these days, for both her and I. The boys are watching a movie and so I escaped for a few moments of "me" time. It is time to go back out to them now though, so I can fit in a few more minutes of togetherness before they head off to bed.

Six months ago, if I had projected where I would be right now, and what I would be doing, it would not have included working in the elementary school libraries. It would not have included having to leave my 20 month old daughter to go to work. It would not have included even being here in Kelseyville. We thought our lives were headed in a much different direction. For our darkest days there have been pinpricks of light. If you get enough pinpricks in a page, eventually the light will shine through. Even though the rug was pulled out from under us, it seems the flooring underneath is better than what we were standing on before. For that, my many wonderful friends, and this amazing community, I am truly and inexplicably grateful. Cheers!

And the kicks just keep on coming.

Dustin received a letter from EDD in the mail yesterday informing us that due to Code Section 1256 (which states that - an individual is disqualified if the department finds that he voluntarily quit his most recent work without good cause or was discharged for misconduct from his most recent work) his unemployment claim has been denied. Dustin is going to appeal, but seriously? Without just cause?? I want to know who's in charge so I know which bureaucrat needs me to shove Dustin's Army orders in his or her face. Or maybe his signed military contract, the one he couldn't have backed out of, but the same one they did back out of, will do it?

We've sat here and taken one shot after another. Bill collectors are knocking down the door. Christmas is right behind them. I feel it has come time for me to write a letter and send it to anyone and everyone who might actually read it and care about how good citizens in this country are being treated. I haven't written a letter before now because I'm not sure what it'll do, if anything. I can be outspoken but usually only when I am certain I have all my facts straight and know my audience is somewhat receptive. Injustice is everywhere and not too many people seem to care. I don't want my letter to come across as a whine session, but I'll be damned if I'm going to sit here and take another kick from our government while we're down. Enough is enough.

Our bank has accepted the short sale offer, but wants to close at the end of December, not mid-January as we had stipulated. We have been looking for a rental somewhere in this area around the $1000 price range. It's going to be near impossible to come up with a security deposit and first month's rent by the end of this month. If we can rent from a private party who will understand our situation and give us some time to come up with the deposit we will be better off. There are a ton of empty houses around here, if only we knew the owners. Dustin's work is still spotty. He has applications in at various places, but nothing solid has come through. I have my interview for the library position at the elementary schools tomorrow. I'm hoping we're onto a forward roll and are done with this backward spiral.

In the midst of all our life's chaos we still have the holiday chaos to contend with. I don't usually get all worked up around the holidays, I enjoy them for what they are. But there is one thing I am very particular about. I want the perfect Christmas tree and this year it was quite the adventure getting what I wanted!

Two years ago we bought a $10 permit and went up into the mountains to find our Christmas tree. Dustin topped a 40 foot tree. That was the first strike the poor tree had against it. I guess it wasn't really the tree's fault that when it came down off the top of the tree, it wasn't nearly as pretty as I was assured it would be. That tree looked a whole lot more beautiful in the woods, in it's home, than it looked in my home. I complained about the wimpy branches that failed to hold up some of my dearest ornaments all season. You could fit a small child in some of the gaps between branches. I swore I would not go to the woods to get a tree again. Last year we bought a beautiful Nobel Fir for $90 straight out of a tree lot. I didn't complain about the tree, but the price had me a bit sick.

Our finances being what they are this year, a $90 tree lot Christmas Fir, was out of the question. And so I found myself having to go back up into the woods so that we might have a tree for Santa to place gifts under. I almost had myself convinced that it was actually as expensive, if not more, to go up into the woods. The permit may only be $10 but gas is still $3 a gallon. The way I figured it, after buying snacks and fueling up and purchasing a permit, we weren't any better off than going to the tree lot. I was told we went to the woods for the experience. But the tree lot trees were so pretty, I argued. No one listened.

Our friends in all weather, Jaemi, Isaac and girls, joined us. At the ranger station we ran into the Jensen family and so we all headed up in search of the 3 most perfect Christmas trees the woods had to offer. Isaac led us up a different mountain than the one from 2 years ago. It wasn't quite as far out. We made one stop about midway to the top and I turned my nose up at the Indian Long-Needle Pines. Pine is fine to burn for warmth. It is not fine as a Christmas tree. We continued on up the mountain, the Jensens pulling off somewhere along the way, and made it to the top where the ranger's look-out station sits sentinel over the surrounding valleys. The view of our county far down below was incredible! Our massive lake looked like a pool of mercury spilled across the land. The farming community's fields and orchards made geometric patterns out of the sprawl of Earth all around. Dustin and the boys decided to climb up the stairs on the look-out only to be turned around because of the freezing wind and swirling snow.

Snow flurries had started to fall on our way up the mountain and now that we were at the top they were sticking to the frozen ground. We jumped back in our vehicles and headed to a side road where we were sure we'd have access to trees worthy of holding Christmas ornaments. We stopped again before the side road because Jaemi saw someone she knew from high school. In this small town, you can't go anywhere without running into someone you know. Not even to the top of a mountain! Her old friend had my idea of a wonderful tree strapped to the top of his truck.

We got out and looked down the side of the mountain. It was dappled with pines and fir trees. Even the pines at that elevation were beautiful. We saw our tree from where we stood and Dustin, Adam and I climbed down to make further inspection. The view from that side of the mountain was nothing short of glorious. It was snowing, the steel gray clouds left shadows on the mountains the stood across from us. All you could see was nature as God intended it. No buildings, no crops, no farms, nothing that had been put there or that had been visibly touched by man. I knew places like that existed, I just didn't realize they were so close to home.

Jaemi's old high school buddy came in handy as Dustin carried our tree up the steep incline. He helped us get it back up over the side onto the access road. Isaac came up a short while later, Avery in tow, with the Nunn tree. Apparently, Avery thought he had a better chance of helping to cut down a tree with Isaac. Adam had the tree-cutting-help covered for our tree.

Our trees were so big they would not both fit into the back of Dustin's dad's truck. Isaac managed to tie their tree to the top of their vehicle and we headed back down the mountain. By the time we were all buckled up and the trees were secured (or so we thought) the ground was speckled with a painting of snow. We made it down the mountain without incident. We parted ways with the Nunns in Upper Lake, them going to Jaemi's mom's house, us going home. Somewhere along the highway, Dustin did that thing I hate. The thing where he says, "Oh shit! Oh Shit!! OH SHIT!!!" and I have no clue what he's "Oh shitting" about. As he pulled over to the side of the highway I looked in the side mirror and saw our perfect Christmas tree bouncing down the highway behind us.

We both jumped out to rescue the tree, thankfully no one was coming down the highway after us. Once again, we secured the tree, this time with rope, and resumed our drive home. By some miracle, only one branch broke in the tree's highway escapade, and even that was at the bottom where it needed to be cut to fit into our stand anyway. Later that night when I spoke with Jaemi, she informed me that their tree had tried to make an escape from the top of their vehicle too, twice.

My house smells like the woods. My ornaments hang off of sturdy branches on a $10 tree, $20 if you count the gas. Santa has somewhere to place gifts. We all got to pretend to be lumberjacks and cut down our trees on a freezing fall day up in the mountains with snow falling. And the Nunns and the Madrids have one heck of a funny story to tell about going up into the mountains, scaling a steep incline and coming down with flying Christmas trees!

To heck with humbug.

I received an email yesterday that spoke of "realizations". It's a good email, one I have seen before. It usually makes me think of friends who have passed away much too early for their years and my dad, when it states that to realize the value of a friend or family member, you must lose one. My dad is always in the front of my mind at this time of year. As much as he tried to "Bah-Hum-Bug" his way through the holidays, he made the holidays what they were. Since his death, there are those in my family who have had a difficult time embracing the holidays and appreciating them for what they're really about. For them, the joy isn't there. I hope they can learn to let go and seek that joy again. It's easy to focus on what we've lost and what's been done, but I've come to realize that when you spend so much time in the past, you miss and fail to revel in what's happening right now.

This will be a tough Christmas in my household for many reasons. Today is December 1st, we have just over a month to find a new place to live. Finding a new place means coming up with the security deposit and first month's rent and possibly having to fill a propane tank if the house has one and it is empty. We are behind on bills and the phone's ring has become as incessant as the mosquito's buzz on warm summer nights. The equivalent of bug repellent for bill collectors around here is to turn the phone's ringer off and the answering machine all the way down.

As I drove into Lakeport yesterday to fetch baby wipes and a loaf of bread to liven up our pasta dinner another of the realizations in that email hit me, almost literally. Adam stayed home to finish his homework and Taluelah and Avery came along for the ride. Avery sat in the front, which I normally do not let him do, and the Lue girl was buckled in her car seat with the newly adjusted straps to accommodate her ever expanding body. I was driving between 55 and 60 mph down Highway 29. I make a real effort not to speed, because on the list of "last things we need right now", getting a ticket rates pretty high. About midway to Lakeport, toward the end of the highway's pass through Kelseyville, I saw a black PT Cruiser up the road a way, off to my right, waiting to make a left turn across the two lanes of traffic. I saw her, but apparently she did not see me, even though I was clearly visible had she looked to her left.

I have a habit of saying, "don't do it," under my breath when I see a vehicle waiting to pull out, possibly in front of me. It's my way of willing them to stay where they are, letting us all continue on our merry ways. I guess I should have spoken my command much louder yesterday. The driver started to pull out to make her left turn in front of me, then thought better of it. My guess is she realized that the oncoming traffic, traffic that was opposing me, was "on-coming" too quickly and she would not make it. I still don't think she realized though, that she had pulled out in front of a vehicle, mine, that was traveling very near if not at, the posted speed which was still much too fast to stop on such short notice. Had she remained where she was I could have avoided hitting her by veering to the right but still stayed on my side of the road. There was no way to go behind her. Had I cut my wheel to the the right I would have ended up off the road smashed into a tree or flipped over. Now this is a guess again, but I'm fairly certain that she then decided to look to her left and see if any vehicles were coming her way. Um, hello!

Everything at this point happened so quickly that I can only assume our hearts both leaped to our throats and my life wasn't the only one flashing before a set of eyes in that odd intersection. In her attempt to correct her blunder, and avoid being plowed into by my Jeep, the driver pulled forward... a titch. Then she must have remembered the traffic that she was originally waiting on because she stopped, right there in front of me. I was already in the process of a skid, due to slamming on my worn down brakes on tires in desperate need of replacement, and veering left to avoid what could have been an awful wreck. When she pulled forward she left me no room to pass on the left, while still staying on my side of the road. Instead, I was forced to continue skidding left, through oncoming traffic. I ended up on the opposite side of the road, in the middle of a street that exited onto the highway. As I sat there, my backside facing the cars and trucks that whizzed by, Avery asked, "What's with all the traffic?"

The black PT Cruiser did not stop. The driver did not say sorry, did not wave apologetically. Instead, once the vehicles that she had stopped in front of me to avoid being hit by had passed, she finished making her left turn and continued on her way. A man in a large white truck who had nearly witnessed our "almost - coulda been" nasty car accident, slowed to a stop in the median and looked to make sure that we were okay. Outwardly we were. It took me a minute to collect myself and make the same turn the idiot in the black car had attempted from the opposite direction. I did not pull out in front of anyone. I was taught how to look both ways before I cross a street.

On the remainder of our trip to Lakeport we were passed by two CHP patrol cars and a fire truck with lights flashing and sirens wailing. Avery asked if I thought someone had called the police on "that" lady. I told him it was doubtful. Police don't generally respond to a call for something that almost happened. My insides were twisted in knots, my head throbbed and I felt like vomiting for quite awhile after the near collision. I explained to Avery why I do not let him sit in front when we go places. I can be a cautious driver, but that does not mean the rest of the driving world is. We got our baby wipes, we got our bread, we stopped to talk to a friend at the store and we left, Avery sitting in back without being told.

We discovered the reason for the police vehicles and fire truck on our way home. Our normal drive was rerouted due to a car accident. I don't know the details of the accident. I do not know if the accident involved a little black PT Cruiser or if the driver of a little black PT Cruiser witnessed the carnage that caused a detour on the highway. I can't help but think that whoever the driver of that Cruiser was had to have had a realization of her own. That could have been her, her passengers and a white Jeep filled with half of a family, just going out to get baby wipes and bread. For me, the detour brought back a line from the email I had read earlier that day... To realize the value of a second: Ask a person who has survived an accident (or barely avoided one).

All this writing of accidents and my dad and loss and being thankful and finding joy in the present reminds me of a dream I had a few weeks ago. It was the first dream I've had with my dad in it since he passed away 5 years ago. He was at a hospital in the ICU. He had been in an awful car accident on his way to work. My mother, my Aunt Jaime, some guy named Hawk, Myself and Taluelah were all in the waiting room. I thought I was going to have to leave Taluelah with Hawk so that I could go back and see my father. I figured this hospital was no different from any of the others I have had the misfortune of visiting - no children allowed in some areas.

There was an elderly gentleman at the receiving desk with skin the color of aged dark chocolate. His face radiated warmth and so I found the courage to ask if I could bring Taluelah back with me to see my dad, for her to see her Grandpa. He seemed surprised that I would ask permission and not already know that my daughter was welcome to pass by his desk and go with me into the back. In fact, he said that it was important that she did, that was why she was there. After my mother finished checking names of visitors off a list the kind old guard pointed to a huge clock that stood off in the distance but still appeared to be right there and made sure we knew how long we were allowed to stay. I remember, it wasn't for a very long period of time.

When we got into the ICU there were all the regular sights, smells and sounds... beeps, hummings, florescent lighting, antiseptic, machines, tubes, wires, doctors, nurses. But all of that faded away when I saw my dad standing there looking healthier than he did even years before he got sick. My mom said something to the effect of, "What have I told you? How many times did I say...?" And my dad just smiled and said, " In all the years I drove up and down that hill, something was bound to happen." I stood there confused. Wasn't my dad injured? Wasn't that why he was in the ICU? Why was he not in a hospital gown? Why wasn't he lying in a bed? And actually, hadn't my dad been dead for quite some time? Hadn't his body been reduced to ash? Why was he standing there looking pink and fresh and clean and fit and healthy and clothed? My dad must have noticed my puzzled face and guarded stance, because he turned his attention to me and Taluelah and smiled. And even though none of what I was experiencing made any sense to my mind, it made perfect sense to my heart. We were there so that my dad could finally meet his only granddaughter.

I've often lamented the fact that Taluelah will not grow to know my father. Her brothers have their memories. They remember my dad's scent, the deodorant he used, the gum he chewed, one of them even vaguely remembers the time Grandpa dressed as Santa, only to be found out when the picture was developed. Taluelah will have pictures and stories, but she will never know the joy he would have felt seeing her and her brothers grow. She can't possibly understand what she and he are missing out on. Maybe he'll come back and visit again in dreams, hers or mine, and my girl will be given a sense of who her Grandpa was. Stranger things have happened. I avoided plowing into a car while other vehicles avoided smashing into me and mine.

It would be easy to focus on all of the horrible things that could have resulted from my Jeep and a PT Cruiser meeting catastrophically, on the fact that Christmas gifts will be smaller and less this year because we are not only having to save what little money there is for the new place we must move to shortly, but because the incident yesterday proved what I've really known for awhile - we need new tires and brakes. Instead, I choose to thank the heavens and my angels that I was not down that road one second sooner last night and that I get to enjoy the smells of pine and fir and gingerbread and the twinkling of lights and the laughter of healthy children and the steam from my breath on these magical late fall evenings, that I am alive and that my dad's spirit hovers reminding me of just how joyous this season truly is.