let nothing you dismay

merry christmas eve. maybe you're a present shaker. in our house, the presents start piling up here and there in the public domain and they are there for the shaking. no one is watching like a vulture to see who snoops and who doesn't. most lack any tell-tale shape or design. me, i'm not a shaker. i don't want to have an idea of anything i'll be opening. in the past couple of years, mom and i have gone shopping on christmas eve. not really for anything in particular, but just to see what we find. today was no different. i know for a fact i'll be receiving "matering the art of french cooking, volume one". mom bought it while we were out. i bought myself an apron. i'm sick of spilling on myself, wiping flour-y hands on clean jeans, and the like. the cookbook, it would have been a great surprise, considering i didn't ask for it, and mom and i saw "julie and julia" during the year and it was a memorable night out. nonetheless, i like to be surprised on christmas, and for my birthday, and any other time a gift comes my way.

i am also a fan of taking turns while opening presents. for me, there is as much surprise in watching others open gifts as there is in opening my own, or in watching them open ones i gave them. dad and i went to the hospital to deliver presents yesterday, and on the way there he started telling me about some gifts he had bought for mom. i didn't want to know! their big gift is a trip to sunny siesta key for new year's, and that is no surprise, and it can't be opened, so i wanted as many secrets as i could compile for tomorrow. i had to cut him off, otherwise he'd tell me everything.

one reason i like going to the hospital when i'm not due for treatment is because it is a surprise. i like dropping off presents and cards (handmade this year - if you work to save my life, i'll make you one, too) because it is unexpected. i don't like to take precious time from the doctors' and nurses' days, but there is something nice about being there without having to get chemo or scan results. after three years of treatments, appointments, surgeries, during which i'm pretty sure we've shared most emotions - i've laughed, cried, cheered, been frightened, excited, and exhuasted - i feel the least i can do is spend part of a day saying thank you, and doing it as a surprise.

as i sit here typing this, the house is filling with the smell of sauteeing onions and green peppers. the dog is begging for food she doesn't even like. i've picked out some recipes to try (not from the new cookbook, that's for the new year) and tomorrow i'll don the new apron and try to put together a small feast for our small gathering. over the years, christmas has been a quiet day in our family. i like the lying around, reading new books or napping, walking the dog or watching some football.

i feel lucky to be here, once again. three years ago i was so terrified it would be my last christmas; i wanted it to be perfect in every way. i know better now than to be worried about much. i have no idea what the next week, month, or year holds for me. i have my hopes and dreams. today, though, i am happy to be here, looking at the tree, toes cold from my afternoon walk, excited to see my brother tonight.

what is life if not full of surprises, all the year through?

happy christmas.