"Quality time in the bakeries. Slaughtering the French language." That was what my daughter wrote that she was looking forward to this Christmas in Argelès.
She will meet up with us in Dublin this weekend. We'll have an exploring day before going to France.
Christmas with her will always be special and never guaranteed.
When she was little she was with me Christmas eves but after Christmas morning, she would go with her father, a decision negotiated during our divorce. Only later did I learn that she would have preferred not to split the holiday, but thought she didn't have a choice.
Parents listen to what your children don't tell you as hard as it may be.
And as an adult when Llara lived in Europe, I was able to share Christmas after Christmas after Christmas with her. That was wonderful. Sometimes we were in Switzerland, sometimes in Germany with cousins.
For a few years I was able to go to Boston or Washington DC where she lived at different times.
And we also had phone-call Christmases. Her voice was a gift. My imagination supplied the face.
She is too old to leave milk and cookies for Santa...but I suspect that a mocchino at La Noisette will not go amiss as we share precious time together.
My best present will be having my daughter within hugging reach.
Photo: Our tree from 2013 with some ornaments Llara and I made when she was three. A friend is getting the tree for us and we'll put it up as soon as we are back with these ornaments and others as we did through her childhood.
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