Silent Morning, Holy Morning

It's 6:30 in the morning. And, as is usual during school vacation, not a creature is stirring Chez Wiles.

Except for me. I've already showered and dressed. Coffee is brewing. And Sausage Bread is warming in the oven. The kids love Sausage Bread any time of year, but particularly as part of our Christmas morning tradition.

That's right. It's Christmas morning, and I'm the only one awake Chez Wiles. Don't hate me.

Carter is 19, and Julia is 17. Long gone are the Christmases when I had to lay down two rules. One: Santa can't come if you don't get to sleep. And Two: No one is allowed downstairs before 6:00 tomorrow morning. 

Not, of course, that they ever had to wake me up. I was always as excited as a kid myself -- well awake before they were -- making coffee and making Sausage Bread and most of all, making them wait. They'd sit -- with sleep in their eyes and bedheads that would be memorialized in Christmas photos for years to come -- at the bottom of the stairs, on the last two steps, nearly vibrating from anticipation. From that vantage point, they could just peek around the corner into the living room -- without their sweet little feet touching the floor -- at the lit tree and abundant gifts and overstuffed stockings. 

Flash forward to Christmas Day 2014. My "kids" are nearly grown. There's no more waiting on the stairs. Instead, I'm the one waiting. At 7:15  a.m., they're both still dozing. I'll jostle them awake soon enough. We'll tear open gifts and dump out stockings. We'll stuff ourselves with hot, toasty Sausage Bread, and both kids will join me in a cup of coffee.

For just a few more minutes, though, I'll enjoy the silence. We'll have plenty of time for hustle and bustle later. For now, though, I'm grateful to have an awakening of my own -- and a few silent moments to reflect on the many blessings and joys in my life and on this Earth.

Merry Christmas, friends. 

Chutes, Ladders, The Steps To College, and Broccoli Soup

So that’s that. Julia’s winter exams are officially over. “World Religions” marked another senior year “last.”

With that exam, she takes another step toward college. I’d rather not think that it’s another step away from me.

You might thing the path is predictable, but it’s not. It’s more like the Chutes and Ladders game we played when she was little.  There’s the Candy Cane Forest of college applications and the Gum Drop Mountain of exams. Julia moves forward a couple of steps, I get mired in the Molasses Swamp, and then, with a big fat college acceptance in the mail, she ascends a ladder. She moves forward a couple of steps, I move forward a couple of steps, she wonders about dorm life without her cat, Lionel, and before you know it, she tumbles down a chute.

Mostly though, Julia moves onward, onward, inevitably onward. And not just onward, but happily onward, too.

But not tonight. Tonight we’ll spend the evening watching old episodes of Parenthood and The Perks Of Being A Wallflower.  Again. And before you know it, I’ll be blinking back tears. Again.

But despite what you think, I’m happy about all these steps toward college. I really am.

Because when she’s gone, Lionel is mine. All mine.

Broccoli Soup

In my usual effort to pack in extra nutrients during exams, this "broccoli" soup also includes carrots and celery and onions and garlic.

1/2 stick butter

1 onion, chopped

16-20 baby carrots, chopped

1 Yukon gold potato, peeled and chopped

1 rib of celery, chopped

6 cups broccoli florets

3 cloves garlic, chopped

1 quart chicken stock

1 cup cream

blue cheese crumbles (optional)

In a large, deep skillet, melt butter over medium heat. Stir in onions, sauté until soft. Stir in carrots, celery, potato and garlic. Sauté until soft and slightly browned. Stir in broccoli and chicken stock. Bring to a boil, then, reduce heat to low. Simmer for 20-30 minutes, until vegetables are very soft. Use an immersion blender to smooth to an even consistency (I like mine somewhat chunky). Stir in cream. Season well. Serve hot -- with blue cheese crumbles on top, if desired.