Christmas Day

The holiday season has arrived and as usual the artwork is put on the back burner, left off to the side to simmer.  Most galleries shut down or go into sleep mode during the Christmas to New Years stretch, a period when most clients and artists draw themselves into the family life and the joys of the holiday at hand.  The Christmas tree stands tall and proud in the living room, adorned with ornaments collected over the years.  A mixed assemblage of store bought items picked up while on various vacations, to the classic Martha Steward toilet paper roll ornament, made as a first grade project by each child.  The tree is filled with strings of white lights hanging from the boughs, the sent of pine carries throughout the house, telling those within it’s walls that Christmas had arrived. 

    Lina, our youngest, counted with each passing day the hours until Santa will arrive.  Concerned notes are written directing Saint Nicolas to the front door, since our direct vent fire place offers no chimney for entry.  My worried nine-year-old daughter told me, to put it outside some place where he would see it clearly.  She then set out some cookies by the mantel.

     We had some guests over for the Christmas Eve dinner last night, with a festive array of food on the kitchen table.  With the Swedes came a wide variety of pickled herring in different sauces, fillet salmons, Christmas ham and of course Swedish meatballs. The meal commenced with herring, potatoes and a colorful array of strong vodka based snaps and with every few bites a new song was picked out to sing around the table.  The eating and drinking went on into the night, finally at midnight the last of the guests departed and Karin took off down to the basement to finish her wrapping.

      The next morning Christmas had arrived and Lina was up with the sun.  I stumbled downstairs an hour later with a coffee in hand.  The carnage began.

Richard Boyer