The day before Thanksgiving, I was nearly in tears. Our holiday was going to consist of me, my husband and our three children. Earl had to work. I would do the cooking with the kids help. It didn't seem like much of a holiday. So I called my mom in Florida on my way to work that Wednesday.
"Please won't you and Dad come up for Christmas?" I begged. "I can't stand another holiday without family."
So they came up to Ohio. And my nephew in the Navy came home from Seattle. Then last week, after a flurry of phone calls, my older brother in Texas drove to my grandmother's house in Kentucky. He brought along his teenage daughter and 21-year-old son. Grace and I made the four-hour drive on Sunday morning to spend the afternoon celebrating my grandmother's 92nd birthday. Here's our whole family, minus my boys and husband.
In addition, my aunt, another uncle, a cousin and his wife and their two college-aged children all came too.
The kids had a good time catching up.
Well, I guess they aren't kids anymore. The girls range in age from 13 to 20.
But they caught up with each other like cousins do. They talked and played some music.
My cousin's son Logan is a freshman in college. He has acquired the nickname "The Rooster" but we don't want to know why.
The grown ups (that's me) reminisced about the days when they played Little House on the Prairie, roaming the woods behind my grandmother's house. Then we talked about how they played dress up and how most of them wouldn't fit in my grandmother's clothes now.
I wanted family for Christmas; I got family.
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