I spent Christmas with my main Swede in his home town. I landed on Friday afternoon and didn't take off again until Monday evening. Friday evening consisted of Christmas tree decorating, coy smiles and a surprise cheese and wine picnic in the attic, candles and all. It was nothing short of perfection and He himself is much the same.
Christmas Eve lunch lingered on to dinner and subsequently left us in food-induced comas which were somewhat cured by more food and a viewing of the first of The Lord of The Rings films.
On Sunday morning we went to Church and sang songs and smiled all the while on account of we were so full of joy. The afternoon breezes led us to a deer farm with bread in our pockets and mud on our shoes. I hadn't thought of my family all weekend for fear that I would fumble and crumble inside. Alas when Christmas night had almost passed us by they ambled into my mind and I did fumble and crumble a lot inside. So much so in fact that I cried. It took at least thirty minutes for my tears to subside and all the while he spoke softly and held me tight. We fell asleep and spoke nothing of it the next day.
So my Christmas was different this year. I missed the annual hunting for the perfect tree, the sibling sleep over, the turkey, and Uncle Buck's egg-nogg. I missed listening to Mariah Carey's Christmas album on repeat and the joy of being with my own family. What I had was a hand to hold, a new experience and the joy of being with a family that I am beginning to feel a part of.
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| Peculiar tasting Christmas soda. |
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| For the record, I didn't eat raw salmon. The mere thought of doing so makes me cringe. |
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| Found the secret stash. |
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| The fattest pig I have ever seen in all my nineteen years. |
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| One of three Christmas presents from Nathalie, aka the sister Swede. |
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Artemis.
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