"White Christmas" was playing on the television. We loved that movie together, especially the duet between the Hayne's sisters entitled "Sisters".
… "Lord, help the mister that comes between me and my sister and lord help the sister that comes between me and my man."
We would curl up in my bed or hers and watch it, singing every song and enjoying every dance number. In her unique sarcasm, she would make fun of the genre that allowed people to just break into song and dance in the middle of a Vermont inn. Nevertheless, we couldn't wait for it to come on each year.
My two favorite boys were in the living room watching a football game and yelling at the television, an obnoxious reminder that I am outnumbered.
Just about the time I began lamenting the fact that there are no gifts to or from our girl beneath the tree, my son asked me for a hug.
I don't think that has happened since last spring. My heart leapt, but I was cool. I sat next to him on the couch and pulled him into my shoulder letting our heads rest against each other.. I kissed his forehead and whispered into his ear, "I love you sweet boy."
Thankful for DVR so I can watch "White Christmas" more than once, for a day with the man I adore, for memories of ridiculous Christmas Card outtakes because we can never just pose for a picture, for friends that see the college kids come home and miss my girl with me, and for sweet baby Wade who stands close to 6'2" and still asks his mama for a hug.