“Traditional” does not describe this Christmas Day. But meaningful? Oh yes. Going somewhere new forces you to see things in a new way, while also making memories more alive and vivid. Folks not here—family and friends—seem closer. Christmas is a feeling. A hope. A light in the dark.
The stars are brighter down here. You just can’t stop yourself from staring at them. Could wise men 2,000 years ago have seen something up there? Why not? What’s left if you don’t believe in something? Faith is never blind. Without it, I wouldn’t be here. On this BreakAway. On this island.
On the more secular side of things, Santa paid a visit and left some modest booty for giddy kids. My family spent a glorious day on the beach, living in the light. The feast made us all happy as kings. And steel drum bands from V.I. schools proudly strutted their Christmas-carol stuff on public TV.
I opened not one gift. And I couldn’t ask for anything more.
Peace.
February 18th, 2012 at 10:06 am
[…] away on kayaks—and hoped that I’d been a fine father. I re-celebrated our many traveling Christmases not at home—when my daughter would get a simple felt-art board and I’d get nothing—yet could ask for […]