This weekend we're decorating for the holidays: trimming the tree, lighting the house, decking the halls. A personal holiday celebration, I will once again be reading this book. I first read it before having my son; I cherished it then and it has only gained significance since. It makes me thankful for family and traditions so precious we couldn't bear to live without them. His writing is delicate, spare, strong. It's quiet but immensely moving. It's perfection. My eyes sting with the anticipation of reading it again.
From now until the week of Christmas, work will be crazy. Demands will be many, many, many. But reading Mr. Ives' Christmas will be a wonderful calm in the storm. A perfect reminder of what's really important.
Merry Christmas to me.
