All I want for Christmas has nothing to do with two front teeth as one of my aunts usd to sing when we were children.

 I prefer a pre-Christmas lunch with friends of all ages seated at a large “let’s-talk-all-afternoon” table. 

We’d tell stories. We’d make a concerted effort to listen to each other. 

We’d speak of risks that paid off and those that didn’t.

Some of us would cry at  least a few times for the losses endured, but even those who cry easily, for some have much to mourn, would also laugh a lot – we humans are like that.  

As conversation ebbs and flows I know we’d marvel at our former naivete; the big ideas that turned to nothing, small ones that changed our worlds. 

There’ll be talk of lost baggage, delayed flights, expired passports and some will go very quiet and silently recall the pain and the power of deep, trusted friendships lost. 

I don’t want a tree or flashing lights tacked around my house but I would like to take friends home a few days before Christmas and have quiet hours together appreciating the simple joys of companionship, undeserved forgiveness, being seen, being heard, laced with supersized helpings of all-round Grace.