Real Whipped Cream and Deep Hot Chocolate

Often when I lay in bed unable to fall asleep I will try to recall a memory or visualize a place from my past and try to recreate it. Often it works and I fall asleep in the midst of memories.

Most frequently I visit a beautiful field we used to live by.

Tonight as I rock my girl back to sleep for the 4th time...a memory pops up.  One I haven't thought of in forever.

The island restaurant on Big Lake.

I remember visiting it twice.  Once in the summer and once in the winter.  I remember the smells and the way the place felt.  Like being at summer camp and on vacation at the same time.

I remember Dad took me by ferry.  A green and white cushioned interior boat.  We went out there and I think Dad did some work for them.  I remember drinking a glass of orange juice and sitting at a counter looking out on the lake.

But the memory that sticks the clearest was the winter visit.   You have to wait for the ice to set, deep and strong and cold.  Then they make ice roads.  And thanks to our trusty studded tires, away you go across the frozen lake to the island restaurant.  The dinning area is lined with windows along the exterior wall.  Every one has a view.  But I remember the place being pretty empty both visits.  Maybe cause dad was doing work for them on off hours.  All I know is it felt like we had the place to ourselves.  This time we sat at a table, looking out over the frozen landscape.  I couldn't have been older than 7 I'd say and I could already appreciate the beauty.  Dad let me get a hot chocolate.  It had a pile of whipped cream.  None of that fake stuff. This was the thick, rich, creamy stuff.  OOO man! I can taste it even now.

I felt like I was on top of the world.  I felt special because I got my own hot chocolate, in a restaurant all to ourselves, on an island, in a winter magic landscape.

Thanks Dad.  What a cool memory :)

I want to recapture that feeling.  Find the ability to sit down and enjoy a cup of hot chocolate to it's fullest.

Shouldn't that be our lives?  Shouldn't we be striving to find ways to really FEEL life?  To really TASTE it?  To leave the whirlwind lives we lead, to find a place to be QUIET.  To stop and SHARE the simple things with each other and find JOY in just being TOGETHER?

Christmas at my mom's house

I remember that decorating for Christmas was always a time of excitement, bickering and reminiscing.  We would fight over who got to set up the chipped nativity scene and then later redo it when no one was looking.  We would debate who got to set up the musical statues.

One thing I LOVED was that my mom didn't just put up a tree.  She had Christmas pictures that she changed out on the walls.  she had all sorts of knicknacks to decorate the surfaces. She even had placemats and centerpieces we used year after year.  The whole living area would transform, all to the soundtrack of christian Christmas praise.

I also loved that even if things were broken or chipped she'd just whip out her trusty, albeit a fire hazard, hot glue gun and fix it for next year.  Alas that is why many of the items I associate with Christmas are no more.  But I will always remember them.  The holly leaf shaped taper candle holder that i would use to pretend we lived w/o electricity.  Or the puffy fabric bunny Christmas scene wall hanging.  It was kinda like Peter rabbit's family. And the nativity scene. SO COOL! it was ceramic so thus everything was chipped.  but the "barn" was made of sticks and bark etc. I loved setting that up.  Christmas feels incomplete without a nativity scene.  We need to get one. Probably not ceramic though...

But most of all it was the Christmas ornaments.  Each had a story and some made us all stop and remember.  Like the one with the picture of my Dad's dog, Rex.  I remember getting teary eyed each year for awhile after he died.  Or the one's we made as crafts or the ones my aunt Peggy made over the years.

This year I got to share decorating the tree with Nora and she was THRILLED! she kept saying more more! and taking each ornament down that she could reach.  And this year more than most I wish I could transform our little apartment into a Christmas wonderland.  I will get there eventually.  Until then, I'll hold on to those happy memories and try to recreate the feelings.

Thanks Mom :)