Today is St. Lucia Day, a little holiday within the Christmas season, observed primarily in Sweden. It has a lot to offer families around the world, particularly those that happen to include blue-eyed blonde girls.
I’ve written at length about the holiday here on the blog, and predicted our situation this year last Christmas at this time. This year, with Aly away at college, and still a few days away from Christmas break even if she were coming home, if Michelle and I want breakfast in bed we’ll have to get it ourselves.
Like the Ghost of Christmas Past: 10-year old Aly in St. Lucia gear, 2003 (Photo: Mark Zeiger).
So be it. If I love the Christmas season (and I do, I do I do I do!) it is for its bittersweetness, the joy of what is and hope for what will be intermingled with a sense of loss for what is no more. So it is with our St. Lucia Day mornings. Perhaps one day, a proud young mother will herd another small, bright-eyed, nervous Saint Lucia, the very image of the one we once knew, into her grandparents’ bedroom with a tray of coffee and buns. Who can tell? Perhaps she’ll even be escorted by smaller, candle bearers in conical hats.
Until then, I’d better get into the kitchen and load up a tray if there’s going to be breakfast in bed on the Zeiger homestead this St. Lucia Day morning . . . .