My Christmas is made of a million small things, which can be hardly called traditions – they are too tiny for the word. In any case, I am doing every year, for every Christmas, and which make me feel that the holidays are approaching.
I buy my tree from the same farmers for something like 17 or 18 years. They know me, I know them. We ask each other, “how are you,” and we mean it:). We were chatting with the owner’s daughter-in-law about how busy we are and how Thanksgiving was late this year, and everything is so compressed… and she said: I know I won’t have time to do everything and I am trying to concentrate on important things. Tomorrow I need to drive to pick up my daughter from the airport, and this is important. I know I won’t have the Christmas tree put up on time, but that’s OK! I can’t even describe how it felt to hear from a person from the Christmas Tree farm such kind of complaint!
Today, I was shipping the first several boxes of cookies, the ones which will travel the longest distance. Because of the train delays, I ended up going to the post office not after work, but before. I was first in line, and a post office clerk was not yet exhausted by demanding customers. So we chatted a little bit. She told me that I only needed to fill in one form per package, not two, and that I can do it online. Then came the usual conversation: yes, I want the most expensive option, yes, I know how much it costs, I do it every year. – -So — cookies?
One the third box she asked:
-So…these cookies… Did you buy them or did you make them?
-I make them! Every year. And no worries – I know how to pack them so that they won’t break!
I do, indeed!