Christmas at Home
From Laguna Beach's Surf & Sand Resort,
This 65-degree Christmas Eve Friday afternoon,
We drive six or so miles south, down the undulating coast,
The slowly rolling Pacific Ocean to our right
And, to our left, in every conceivable crevice and niche,
Like rare gems and commonplace rhinestones,
Houses fitted into the hills' intricately carved settings.
Soon, we enter Dana Point's vehicular congestion
(It's not just rush hour but the eleventh hour of shopping
Before Christianity's holiest day calls a stop to it all),
Turn left, northeast, away from the harbor, horizon,
Begin our thirty-minute climb mountainward,
Toward the ultra-planned community of Ladera Ranch,
A colossal, self-contained subdivision-city.
Reaching a house barely containing the excitement inside,
We enter through the garage, take off our shoes.
Wilson, the beagle pup, rambunctiously greets us.
We deposit our presents into the few remaining slots
Surrounding a festively ornamented and lit tree
Buoyed by a sea of gaily papered and beribboned gifts.
Savory aromas of ham and turkey inundate every room.
Linda's son Richard and his wife, Mb, welcome me warmly.
Joyously, I absorb the energy of precious ten-year-old Savvy
And her precocious younger brother, Parker,
Whom I haven't seen since their July visit to St. Louis.
Almost immediately, I'm at home, a member of this family,
Integral to its closeness, spirited traditions, history.
This year, Christmas has returned me to what it used to be.
12/30/10
|