It was a quiet Christmas here in Salinas. There was no tree. There were no lights. Christmas dinner was cioppino, a fish stew originated by Italian fishermen sailing from the Monterey and San Francisco wharves in the early 1800’s.
I hadn’t recovered enough from Jeannie’s passing to shop, and there was none of that while she was in the hospital. It was the same with Christmas cards. We had plans to make our own again this year.
Still, it wasn’t as gloomy around here as all that sounds. There were calls from family and friends, and every day there were the Christmas and sympathy cards together in the mail box. My mother packed up krumkakke, sandbakkelse, and lefse – even threw in a stick of butter and some brown sugar – and overnighted the traditional Norwegian pastries to arrive Christmas eve. It did. All intact, too.
Before that I’d already decided that I was doing Jeannie no honor by ignoring Christmas, so I dug into the place where the season’s decor is stored. There, clamoring to get out, were her Christmas elves, little creatures that annually have helped us bake, straighten, and clean in preparation for the holiday. Well, I had to let them out, of course, along with the plush reindeer riding in the wooden sleigh and the mousie with the antlers tied to her head.
With our little elf friends scattered through the apartment, and the cards a few gifts arranged on the dining room table, it was almost festive. The cioppino was excellent (Murphy’s got the recipe). With the lefse...and sandbakkelse...and krumkakke, it became a quiet night in which some wonderful memories could be savored.
Christmas Day was consumed with work on a gift from Jeannie to those who loved her. After that’s done I’ll get to the cards of thanks for the kind thoughts and memorials so many of you sent.
I deeply appreciate the support of family and so many friends, and wish each and every one a Merry Christmas and a very Happy New Year.
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