You’re 8 months old, and the light of your parents lives. I’m sure by now that you’re tired of hearing how much you are loved and wanted. Tough. You’ll spend a lifetime hearing it, and hopefully never have to understand why it was such a miracle that you finally made it into the world. You’re adored kiddo. Tough.
As your read these, you’re a man now, maybe with kids of your own. Laughing at the kitschy letters from “Aunt Clara” with your kids. But I’d be remiss if I did t at least touch on the chaos of the world in 2016. Dumpster fire is a good analogy. For an awful lot of folks the world is scary, the future uncertain. That makes a perfect kick off to these letters.
Because for me, Christmas has only had loose attachment to religion. It’s always been more about faith and hope. The fact that it’s a holiday celebrating the birth of another special baby- eh that’s just a bonus for a wordsmith with a schmaltzy streak.
I’ll hopefully share some of my favorite holiday traditions, and stories that matter to me. It’s my gift to you, in your first year on this planet. Someday down the road, I hope these words will give you a push when you need it, and a kick in the tail when you really need it.