Everyone has a Christmas Camelot — that magical moment when you look around a room filled with all the people you love and your heart swells so big it nudges the tear ducts in your eyes.
This year, our Christmas Camelot happened midway through the holidays on a frigid Thursday in Cecil, Wisconsin. Smoke curled out of the chimney and welcomed us all to the cabin, because our son Vinnie and his girlfriend Danni arrived first and Danni builds the best fires.
One by one the cars crunched up the icy path, delivering brothers, sisters, girlfriends, friends, parents, a godfather, a consigliere, and a grandma.
Eventually, the small cabin held a dozen people and we had a little Cram-a-lot going in the kitchen. We enjoyed a simple meal around a big, old wooden table and told the kind of family stories most everyone has heard a hundred times but laughs at just the same.
The stories and the laughter extended into the wee hours of the morning, because everyone wanted to make the most of the one night we’d all have to be together.
I had to leave by 6:30 the following morning and, as I picked my way through the dark cabin and headed toward the door, I kept thinking about the Camelot moments families experience when their lives take them far away from each other.
The distance and the memories make us all increasingly grateful for the times we do get to spend together.
In short, there’s simply not
A more congenial spot
For happily-ever-aftering than here