This year, I find that I'm excited about the holiday, even a bit fluttery. It's been years since I've been like this: all lights and sparkles and ribbons and hope. I've always loved Christmas—the traditions, the vast promise of the holy day—but there was something lost along the way. I imagine the credit for my joyful resurgence of anticipatory Yuletide excitement goes to Oliver, age not-quite-two. We didn't see him last Christmas, but this year everyone is coming home.
I am deeply grateful.
(That's Oliver in a photo taken for his family's Christmas card last year.)
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