There is something intoxicating about gathering with your family for the Christmas holidays. It's as if there is an overflow of joy that is poured down on your head all the way to your toes. The moment your foot is set into the front door a flurry of pleasant emotions seems to sweep over your soul and you can't help but act as silly as you did when you were kids. Almost inevitably, the memories return, and you recall past pleasures shared in that house when it was just a small three bedroom.

You recall singing Christmas carols in the backyard under the starry heavens, you recall decorating the house and setting up the Christmas tree, you recall shopping for your annual Christmas suit and you most certainly recall going out in the town to your very first grand market. You recall helping mom baking all nine Christmas pound cakes, and licking the bowl and spoon clean and you recall the morning's eggnog with roast beef and duck bread. You then recall the Christmas feast, and all the "specially invited guests" who were trying very hard to get into the family. You remember sitting down around the table and anywhere else a seat could have been found, while the meal was blessed, and you remember digging in while a joke was shared here and then another one over there and you remember, you remember and you remember many merry Christmas days.

But Christmas isn't so merry when a family falls apart. When mom and dad no longer shares the same roof. When siblings contend with each other over petty matters and when the desire to gather dwindles year after year. Christmas isn't so merry when only a remnant of the family remains. When you sit around the dining table and the conversation is strained and selected as each person avoids talking about the ruin the family has fallen into.
Christmas isn't so merry when it is time to leave, and you can't help but wonder who will attend next year, and you wonder, and you wonder will Christmas ever be merry to this family again.

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