Although I have no real memory of going to my grandparent's house on Christmas Day, I know we did just that one December, when I was perhaps 5 or 6. We took the train to Denver for a visit, and I can only imagine their small house filled with family. My grandparents, my parents, my mom's sister, and the six cousins.
My sister has made this a tradition... a house full of family. And I treasure all the memories from all the Christmas gatherings since our parents passed away. Watching everyone grow older, opening presents, playing games with the kids, cooking dinner together, lingering at the dining room table over wine and dessert, making the day last as long as possible.
It isn't a train that speeds me to the open arms of family these days, but a ferryboat. And every Christmas morning, I can hardly wait to load up the car and get on the road, anxious for the first glimpse of the white and green ferry that will take me to my sister.
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