I can’t think of a more beautiful drive than the coast, at sunset. We’ve bought some quick road food and we’re completely packed in our little family sedan – gifts for family and one another, some food for the Christmas dinner Ralph is planning. The curvatures of the highway make me ill; I’d fare better if I’m driving. Instead I’m navigating dinner plans with my sister through text. Trying to find a family-friendly place to share a meal.
I finished my last Christmas present this morning – a hooded one-piece pajama set for my daughter. My mother used to sew my brother and I lovely bits for Christmas – I could remember hear cheap Kenmore hacking into the night while we were prevented from entering the living room. I remember one year she made us quilts – pre-printed panels of cats (in my case), an inexpensive burgundy velveteen sashing. This is back when we had a fabric store in town! It wasn’t a “true” quilt (as quilt snobs will tell you!) as it was tied, rather than quilted – it was a comforter.
Well, I absolutely adored that quilt. I don’t know when it went missing but I loved it. My brother had something in a blue theme – I can’t remember what. I think I will always remember the love I felt receiving something that someone spent their time constructing with their hands.
My thoughts are on this time of year – a time of plenty, a time of tipping service people a little more, of procuring gifts for family and friends – but also, strangers. My thoughts as we speed comfortably along the sunset-speckled glittering roads – tired as I am, I have a festive cheer.
And I’m not the only one. “I packed my sparkly tiger shirts,” my son says happily, from the backseat. I did not know he had more than one, until this moment.
The shirts, we were to find out – in lieu of even one extra pair of underwear.
