Well, it’s not the picture I had in my head but it’s still pretty darn good. Better, even.
No, when I was a girl, teenager, or young woman, my picture of my future included a handsome husband, two adorable moppets who were the exact synthesis of the best of the both of us, a beautiful Christmas tree covered with family-made and heirloom ornaments, and lots and lots and lots of Christmas lights. The real meaning of Christmas would be celebrated with reverence and little regard for commercialism.
I’ve got that handsome husband, but all the rest is different. One adorable (when she’s not making me crazy) African American/Eritrean/Caucasian moppet who looks nothing like Mr. Handsome or me, plus three other babies who are not ours but are still ours, a pewter menorah with a full compliment of candles, and not a decorated tree or twinkly light in sight.
No, it’s not the picture I had, my fantasy future. Instead, I have a wonderful reality with a husband who loves me and whom I love, a daughter we adore, and a season filled with family, tradition, and, most of all, love. What more could I hope for? Not a single thing.