Up until now there has never been an impressive third act to any of our Boston Children’s Holiday Gatherings. I tend to spend all my social niceties on that Saturday, and it takes enough out of me that I rarely join in the brunch festivities on the day after. Part of me also hates sad Sunday goodbyes, so I’d rather pull an Irish exit and not have to do any of the sad stuff. A quick wave over my shoulder without turning back, a la Liza Minelli’s turn in ‘Cabaret’, is my idea of an extended farewell. 

But this year everything is different, and after being away from these friends for so long, I wanted to extend our time together. Besides, Cormac made reservations, so there would not be the chaos of an unplanned expedition (which I would have definitely avoided at all costs). And so I rose early and made it over to the breakfast place, where they had staked out an agreeable place that was playing the final World Cup game (and a dog show!) 

This marvelous group of friends had put on the t-shirts I’d given out as semi-silly gag gifts, and were wearing them to breakfast with this website emblazoned upon the front. It was almost enough to make a sentimental chap well up with tears. 

I sat down and was soon joined by Riley, who remains my spirit animal. Back in 2016 we met at Rehoboth Beach, where she offered sass, sass and more sass, and even when it was directed at me, I had to admire it, thus branding her my spirit animal. I saw shards and slivers of my own prickly heart in her defiance, and as much as I understood what heartache and trouble might result from it, I also knew it might be the gutsy glory that sees her through this wayward world. It’s already wonderful watching how she grows into who she is destined to be. 

I’d also seen similar magic in Julia, though of a completely different sort. She provided the necessary comic relief of the morning with a spilled cup of tea, something I managed to capture a bit of while taking video of all the shirts, then realizing we should probably check to make sure she was ok. (She was – no children were burned in the making of this blog post.) Clearly I’m still new at taking care of the kids at all the times. 

In the same way, I’m brand new at the World Cup, which it turns out only happens every four years, and yet no one sees fit to craft a halftime show for the world stage. Quite a lost opportunity. It was playing on the televisions, and we eventually ended up in one of the hotel rooms watching the end of it play out. 

It went into overtime, or whatever the extra minutes and sudden-death shoot-out term is, pushing Anu and Cormac’s family to the very end of their schedule in getting to the airport on time. When the final screams and tears of Argentina’s epic win died down, a shout went out and the entire room went into a frenzy of packing and cleaning, the likes of which I’ve not seen outside of slapstick movies. I took a video to capture the hilarity (I would have only gotten in the way if I’d tried to help.) It was the best ending to a weekend that went from crappy to happy in the most glorious of ways. Somehow it reminded me of the joy we felt in our early twenties – when we’d just be sitting around some dilapidated kitchen table, talking about nonsense and trying to figure out the world around us, fumbling through the best way we knew, and coming back together at the end of a day or week and finding solace and comfort with each other. 

The day that the twins and I were scheduled to drive to Boston was last Friday – the same day that some horrendous snow event was scheduled to take place – dropping anywhere from 0 to 20 inches precisely in the path of where we needed to go. On Thursday afternoon, there was talk of school and office closings, and I knew the only way to guarantee my presence in Boston would be to leave that night. With all my other friends coming from places as far as Virginia, Maryland, and California, I had to be there. Sadly, that meant the twins could not join as they couldn’t get away a night early. Such was the way the world seemed to be going lately, and as I drove into the stormy night, my heart was heavier than it had already been. The ride did not help matters, as treacherous weather had already started setting up in the form of rain and high winds, just as I entered the Berkshires (not even an hour into the journey). 

When the lights of Boston finally crept into blurry and hazy view, my relief was palpable, and for a moment the skies seemed to clear just a bit. I dropped off my things then parked the car in a nearby garage in the event that there was snow. Hurrying home in the rain and wind, I shut the door behind me and melted into the comfort of the condo in a storm. 

The next day, I assembled the food and decorations and gift bags, and waited for the arrival of the families. The weather was still iffy, and flights were being delayed and canceled. Anu and her daughters were part of a delayed flight, while Cormac made it in a day or two beforehand. Chris was on a train from New York with his son Simon, while Suzie, Pat, Oona and Milo would drive over later that day. Kristen and Julia were not sure until the last minute they could attend, and Tommy, Janet, Mady and Logan were out with sickness. I ran a few quick errands, then set up for a day of waiting and anticipating, coupled with a rare indulgence in nostalgia. 

My history with this group of kids goes back to their births – I’ve known them longer than they’ve known themselves. For many of them, my first gift was a miniature mirrored disco ball – and babies absolutely love the play of light and sparkle that result. The joys and bonuses of having an honorary guncle in the family…

We first vacationed together in Rehoboth back in 2016, where the below photo was taken. Looking at it now, I’m amazed by how much they’ve all grown. 

Only a couple of years later, they were already changing and growing up even more, proof of the vicious march of time, but reassuring in that this might be our future. 

As my friends made it through the wild and wintry weather into Boston, we set up a late-dinner for those who could make it – about half of our crew – and once again, the familiar sensation of being surrounded by safe and supportive people who have known you for more years than they haven’t suddenly carved away at my chilly, inconsolable heart. 

The next day we assembled at the condo, give or take a few family members, and posed for posterity – a photo I will one day look back upon and marvel at how young we once were. 

The afternoon ripened into evening as we all caught up on two or three years of being away from each other. There was something slightly sad in thinking of how much we had missed, texting and online connections being tenuous at best and completely disjointed at worst, but overriding all of that was the comfort and ease of being around a group of people I’ve known since 1995. 

These are the people who have seen me at my absolute worst – and never judged or thought less of me for any of it. We’ve seen each other through marriages, deaths, births, break-ups and break-downs, and this is the group that will always be family to me. 

Now that their kids are getting old enough to hold an adult conversation, things are getting more interesting and enjoyable. While the parents may be weary of the drama and the conflict that being a teenager consists of, I am absolutely loving it. Distance lends enchantment. 

And while teenage trauma may be irritating to some, each and every one of these kids is turning into an impressive young adult, with more poise, self-possession, and self-confidence than I ever had. I can’t imagine what it takes to be a kid growing up today, and my heart breaks a little every time I see the news or hear of something that students have to deal with – so I hoped this little weekend gathering was a balm on any worry or stress they might have. It had already worked its magic on me. 

One of Simon’s gifts (recommended by his father) was a set of nail polish in varying shades of blue and green. I sought out anyone who had a knack for painting fingernails, and Riley volunteered, producing the wondrous results you see below. Simon got a matching set, and for one almost-winter’s night all was right with the world. 

{To be continued…}

Sometimes the silliest Christmas decorations make the most lasting impressions. Similar to this wooden mouse-house, the LED Christmas tree you see in the featured photo is about as ridiculous as one can get the it comes to holiday decorations. Procured on some holiday stroll in Boston years ago with Kira, it’s all plastic and snow-made-out-of-glitter (the worst snow of all). I normally wouldn’t have entertained any wisp of a notion of bringing it home, but for some reason its colors and charm spoke to me in that magical TJ Maxx in which we inevitably found ourselves. There was something so sad and tragic about it, I felt its pull like a Charlie Brown Christmas tree. 

It took a single battery to operate its LED magnificence, and nestled on a shelf that houses a lime-green Crate and Barrel vase, it somehow worked, lending a modern twist to the holiday festivities at hand. Kira and I both laughed at it, but since then it has come out to illuminate its little corner for several years – a new and unlikely tradition that signals how silly the season can be, but also how magical if you start to believe. I’m not quite there, but this is the time for sentiment, so I’m feeling it out.