Tis Christmas Day (or night) and all through the house we hear A Christmas Story on the TV set. "You'll Shoot Your Eye Out!" plays on loop in our head as the fruit cake does sommersaults in our stomachs. A white Christmas is great when home with a fire but less than welcomed when roadtripping through cornfields. But a star bright peaks through the clouds and leads us to our home, where the twinkle lights on the tree warm the front room. Wrapping paper and empty boxes litter the floor with small children passed out under the tree, smelling the pine and sap and dreaming of the fun they'll have with the new toys and games (and snow) tomorrow. As Ralphy shoots his eye out, we laugh and think fondly of past holidays when we were once young, and filled with pie and sugarplums. And as the snow begins to fall again to softly blanket our houses in innocence, we fall asleep as contented as can be.
Merry Christmas!
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