I love this time of year! There are so many fun things to do…parties, family gatherings, cookies to bake, trees to trim, packages to wrap. One thing I really miss this year is the chance to see my granddaughters perform in their annual holiday programs at school. I miss my girls. So, when Mr. FixIt’s son called the other night to tell us about his youngest having her program, we were thrilled to say, “Yes!”

In the early ‘80s, Hubby #2 was just finishing medical school and was about to start his internship and residency. I was working for a four-doctor Internal Medicine clinic as a Diabetes Educator. The wife of one of the doctors I worked for was writing a book about a kind of water exercise called “Flugel Fitness”. She contracted me to illustrate the instruction manual. In the process of working with her, we had lots of conversations about health and wellness. She had a workout studio and I started some weight loss classes for her. I remember having a conversation with her about my situational anxiety surrounding public speaking and she recommended a book by Shakti Gawain called Creative Visualization. I loved that book and read it many times and it did help.

Yesterday’s post struck a sad place within my heart so I wanted to take today in a different direction, though in the end…I’m not sure I have. I’ve really loved all the reminiscing we’ve been doing this month. There were certainly Christmases that were difficult for me growing up and I don’t have good memories of them. But most of my holiday memories are all warm and fuzzy.

One of the hardest things to deal with since losing Mr. Virgo is…change. And of course, that is the one thing you can absolutely count on in this life. Change. Things change. People change. Situations change. And, unfortunately…places change.

I have to tell you, sometimes you have no way of knowing what God has up His sleeve when He leads you down a certain path. Why this way and not that? Sometimes we never figure it out. Other times, it becomes crystal clear. I love those times. Even when they break my heart.

Mr. Fixit and I have a unique relationship. Even though we have only been together a year, we share our earliest childhood memories because we grew up in the same town, at the same time. We are a little over a year apart in age, yet we graduated high school together. We have a lot of conversations that start with…”Hey, do you remember…?” That is unusual unless you’ve been with someone forever. We were in very early grade school together, then my family moved from Parkersburg up to Vienna…the next little town upriver. We joined up again in high school and became the best of friends so, we have literally known each other just shy of fifty years, even though I remember him from 1959.

I visit this topic every year. There’s always a big hullaballoo every year about what to say when greeting others around the holidays. It seems like there are just WAY too many perceived offenses surrounding this subject. There are those offended by “Happy Holidays” or “Season’s Greetings”. There are some who are not necessarily offended by “Merry Christmas” but who wish to be more inclusive. Sometimes the debate gets heated and we forget what the whole thing is all about in the first place. Love. The kind of love that transcends all other love.

The first year of widowhood, absolutely everything was totally overwhelming. I cried my way through the grocery story. I was filled with angst over making decisions as small as getting my hair cut while I easily went out on a three month trip in my little camper. Work was difficult and I made mistakes. I sat through family holidays literally biting the insides of my cheeks to keep from screaming. It was so hard.

I lived in England in 1973 and 1974. My first husband was in the Air Force and stationed over there. When he was transferred stateside to his next duty station, my baby and I flew to West Virginia to spend Christmas with my family. When I flew over to England, I traveled commercial. But when I came home, I flew military transport.

There were several people from the base he was stationed at who were traveling with me. Another mother with her two little ones. Two young Airmen. We traveled for three days before I arrived…exhausted…at my mom’s house. The first day was spent driving in a small VW van to a base up north. The second day was spent waiting…waiting…waiting for a plane to be ready. Once we boarded, we sat on the tarmac for six whole hours before we took off.

How many Christmas cards did you get last year? Not too many, huh? Yeah…me either. Maybe it’s because I lived on the road for a couple of years. Maybe it’s because Mr. Virgo died. Maybe it’s because the “old guard”…the older generations…are passing on. Maybe it’s because I stopped sending them. Whatever the reason, the giving and receiving of Christmas Cards seems to have fallen to the wayside with the likes of the “Thank You Note” and the “Handwritten Letter”.

The night before Thanksgiving, I hit a deer in Mr. FixIt’s truck. Yesterday, we went to get the estimate for repairs. Gulp! All I can say is, thank goodness for comprehensive insurance! I was waiting in the truck while the guy was assessing the damage when I saw them. Hedge Apples! They’re really the fruit of the Osage Orange. They were planted in the ‘30s in rows as windbreaks in the Midwest. The trees have thorns and are often planted at fencing around pastures to keep animals in and predators out.