And now – the fun begins. The moment that very first leaf blushes with its first hint of gold or red, we can say it’s autumn.
I hold my grandgirl in my arms and walk slowly around the low-hanging branches of the maple tree, searching for the prettiest leaves as we recite in unison the names of the seasons: “Spring, summer, fall, winter, spring, summer, fall winter, spring …”
She is only 5 years old, so this cycle is still new and filled with wonder. I remind her that spring was when we flew kites and saw new flowers, summer is when it was hot and we went swimming, fall is where we are right now with the changing leaves, and winter will be cold and snowy.
And then I quiz her: “Which season is cold and snowy?”
She beams at me and exclaims, “Christmas!”
Who can argue with that?
Seasons, holidays – what’s the difference, really?
So we talk about spring as the season for Easter, and summer is fireworks, and fall is trick-or-treat and turkey, and winter is, yes, Christmas.
Then I ask: “What is your favorite holiday?” – and it’s off to the races we go.
My girl is chattering away now, a delightful mixed-up narrative about bunnies and hot dogs and pumpkins and princesses and whether reindeer can really fly.
I don’t know about reindeer, but I am once again reminded of how quickly time flies.
She is getting heavy – yes, that’s it; I can’t possibly be getting older – so I make my way over to the deck and lower myself slowly into a chair, settling her into my lap as I do so. Her monologue continues, uninterrupted.
“… and then the pilgrims and the Indians said, ‘Let’s be friends!’ so they had a turkey and – but the turkey was nice so they didn’t eat him and they had pizza and then it started to snow so they cut down a tree and there were presents but you couldn’t open them until the next day but except for the one that had pajamas in it so everyone had a stocking and then – before that, they all put on costumes and the little girl was a princess and the little boy was a football player or maybe he was a mouse, I forgot, and they went to their gran’ma’s house and she gave them candy and then they had a game and she read stories and there was marshmallows on a stick and it caught on fire and they blew them out and one of them fell off and they just said ‘Never mind!’ and the dog got it and then we played football and I was on the green team and I was the fastest and nobody could get my flag until I fell down but I fell down on purpose because I was the fastest and then the turkey said ‘What about me?’ and there was this reindeer and he lived in a castle with Santa Claus and he said, ‘You can play too!’ and so they all ran around and had fun and then they had more pizza and put on their pajamas and went to bed and when they woke up there was presents and a new bike and then the gran’ma said, ‘Let’s go look at the pretty lights!’ and so they went and then the mommy said ‘No more candy’ except they ate one more piece and then they went to sleep and they lived happily ever after the end.”
I’m a little dizzy, trying to keep up with all this, but I smile and nod, hopefully in the appropriate places, and make little encouraging “Mm-hm” and “oh my!” and “wow” noises now and then.
I hug her again and pick my words carefully, wanting not to confuse her any more than she already is.
“So that’s your favorite holiday, huh?” I ask, and she nods energetically, eyes sparkling with the anticipation of this wonderful event – whatever and whenever it might be.
All I can do is laugh. “Well, my girl,” I say, “I will tell you now what is my favorite holiday. It is every day I spend with you.”