I love the holidays. Just looking at my empty dining room reminds me of all the good dinners I’ve hosted, the set table with napkin rings on dinner plates and holly between candlesticks that anchor each side of the long table, ready for the guests who will soon fill the room, hungry and thirsty, ready and excited to see each other after so long, passing tabletop accessories and admiring what lies inside glass cake stands.
Even in preparation for the holidays, weeks in advance of them, I remember the feelings of elation and modesty I have when Uncle Johnny or Aunt Allison bring gifts for host and I have to accept them, the ice cream maker, the wine carafe, so that I can make the next time even more special with fresh ice cream and purely elegant wine.
Such feasts embody the spirit of holidays, and the life that goes into them. We are eating and drinking and making merry — living it all to the fullest, not worrying about anything but how much cake we can eat after dinner, and it all comes and goes so quickly that it makes it that much more special. I’m ready for the holidays already. Can you tell?