At Christmas all hearts go home.
We dress our windows and doors with evergreens, welcoming family and friends.
Our gaily decked homes welcome passersby too.
A nostalgic sled reminds us of days gone by.
Christmases when it seemed like it always snowed. Everyone gathered at the neighborhood sledding hill. We were there for hours, reluctantly returning home for hot cocoa and dry clothes.
We remember skating on a frozen pond. Our cheeks red and noses frosty, and all the neighborhood kids joining in. No video games for us. We played outside until we were called to dinner, or our mittens so wet we couldn't feel our fingers.
We were welcomed home to the smell of dinner,
just about ready.
Evenings were spent reading a book, playing a board game, building a puzzle.
And once a year our favorite Christmas programs came on. We greatly anticipated these nights.
Frosty the Snowman, Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer, and Santa Claus is Coming to Town.
I loved a movie called
"The House Without a Christmas Tree."
But Charlie Brown was my favorite.
Now my DVR is almost full with recorded Christmas movies waiting to be watched. But I long for a simpler time.
An old fashioned Christmas.