Luminaries and Long Lost Sleepovers

Dear Nana,

I was in Michigan over the holidays visiting Mom, Dad, and Graham. As usual, we lit the luminaries on Christmas Eve. You remember, don't you? The white paper bags with candles inside that flicker throughout the dark night, staying lit until morning, lighting the way for Santa, or at least we used to think so. I remember Graham, on our way home from church on a Christmas Eve long ago, his face pressed against the car's frosty window as we wound our way home to get into our pajamas and prepare cookies and milk for our soon-to-be visitor. His face glowed and his eyes widenend as he announced to the rest of us that the luminaries were just like a runway, but instead of an airport runway, this was a runway for Santa's sleigh. With the luminaries lighting the way, Santa would surely be able to find us. And, of course, when we awoke the next morning and wiped the sleep from our eyes, we found that Santa had indeed paid us a visit.

I slept in your old room, in your old bed, on Christmas eve, since my twin bed in my old bedroom is not big enough for Jim and me to share. The framed poster of the play "Henrietta, Have You Met Her?" still hangs on the wall, reminding visitors that this room, no matter who sleeps in it, will always belong to you. Your double bed has taken the place of the two twins that used to be in the room, but I can still remember what it looked like before. I used to love having "sleepovers" with you on the nights that you visited. We'd both read in our individual beds, you with your glasses on a chain around your neck, me straining to keep my eyes open and keep reading, even though it was past my bedtime.

It has been a long time since one of those sleepovers, but each time I visit home and I sleep in that room, I feel just a little bit closer to you and time melts away like the snow. I am a little girl again, anxious for Christmas morning, giddy with the thought of what daylight will bring. Christmas this year was wonderful. But, I missed you this Christmas. We all did. But in a way, you were there with us. I guess you're always there. In that house, in the guest room. You're just waiting for someone to visit.

Merry belated Christmas, Nana.
Love, Katie