It doesn't quite feel like Christmas yet--our tree is too short and not yet decorated (waiting for Sam to come home), none of my nativities are out yet, it's 42 degrees most days and rainy, and I have a pile of presents in the knitting room to wrap.
But. Annabelle is in high gear for her ballet, Polar Express, this weekend. And her class breakfast and holiday show tomorrow. And those Christmas gifts are all bought. And the cookie baking plan made. So I'm getting there.
I'm up at 3:30 because I'm in the middle of a new novel, and my brain is working overtime. Every day, when I could be wrapping presents, I'm working on it. And when I do that, time flies.
It's almost Christmas and I miss Grace. I can't help but remember how all she wanted were art supplies and anything to do with the Beatles. And I can't help but wonder what she would be desiring at 18, what college she would be coming home from, the joy I'd feel when she walked through the door. My beautiful girl.
I know many of you reading this are feeling the same about your own beautiful children. Know a mom in Rhode Island is thinking of you.
Please look for my op Ed on grief in the Boston Globe early next week. I'll post the link here.
And please, if you're so inclined, follow me on Instagram or Twitter at annhood56.
Be strong in the days ahead.
