Dear Lyla,
If I could choose the shape of the family tree on Mommy’s side it would be a Christmas tree. Like you, I love all of the holidays but have special place in my heart for the yuletide. The magic of Christmas has long been an accepted fact for the Pier clan; and the adoption of that particular viewpoint starts at a very young age. Evidence of our love for the season can be seen on the Christmas tree in our front room, there are ornaments on that tree that I made in preschool; lovingly preserved for me by Grandma Jo and passed down to me at an age when I was old enough to understand the value in such rudimentary handiwork made by tiny hands. You and I watch the same Christmas specials that have been around for over 40 years; yet the cadence and timbre of Boris Karloff’s voice as he narrates “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” resonates with each new generation. As I grew older I began to appreciate and relish how children envision the season; how they make sense of the impossibility of a large jolly man stuffing himself down every chimney in one short night. The sweetness of the revelation that, for those who believe, the night represents that birth of a baby that would be a light to the world; a gift of sacrifice. Long before you came into our lives Daddy and I had the pleasure of watching our nieces and nephews experience the awe of the season. Your cousin Kaila was the first of the grandchildren to be born to Bumpa and Grandma Jo; overboard does not even begin to describe the spoils the little urchin gathered on that first Christmas. It was a good many years before Kaila had any competition around the Christmas tree and then Koel was born. Daddy and I lived very far away from Kaila and Koel when they were little and we did not get to see them very often. However, there was one Christmas when Koel was about a year younger than you are now that we traveled up to the lake to see everyone. How excited the children were for Christmas to finally arrive; they counted the days and nights with the solemnity that belongs only to children waiting for Santa can express at this time of year. Koel was finally at the age where he could identify and recount for any adult who would listen all of the trappings of Christmas. So enamored was he with Santa that Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, pronounced “Roo Doo,” became his best friend and constant companion. The adults in the room would receive frequent admonishments because of our rude behavior; we were forever stepping on poor Roo Doo’s toes or blocking his path. Afraid of another tongue lashing from our wee nephew we would ask as to Roo Doo’s whereabouts before entering; often Koel would tell us that his friend was outside having a snowball snack or taking a snooze on his bed, the coast was clear. Koel’s conviction and faith in the symbols of Christmas was so strong that he inserted himself into that holiday narrative. At sixteen Koel no longer carries on conversations with his childhood friend Roo Doo, but I do believe he still believes in the magic of Christmas. How blessed you are little one to have such colorful ornamentation decorating your family tree. I hope my little cherub that you and I never reach the age when we no longer believe.
Letters To Lyla 