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Trying to put a ribbon around my favorite gift

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Contributed by: Carol Rock on 12/14/2006

Asked to single out the greatest gift I've ever received, I'm in a bit of a quandary.

The red cowboy boots? The Seiko watch? The hand-lettered picture books? The generous gift certificate to Victoria's Secret from my grownup son, prompted by my remark that after 23 years of buying him underwear it was time to treat Mom?

I've never had a December to Remember that involved an oversized bow on a Lexus or pouted because I was hoping for a Longines. Christmastime around our house is generally a chaotic mix of laughter and surprise, sprinkled with food and friends coming and going. I absolutely love it.

We resist the urge to get a "decorator" tree, holding on to the tradition of a live evergreen covered with sentimental baubles illustrating our family's adventures through the years. Cable cars from San Francisco road trips fight for space with three "Baby's First Christmas" ornaments, nudging antique glass balls from Czechoslovakia, an oak leaf from Monticello, a plaster Santa holding the leaning tower of Pisa, Canyon Cowboy decorations and primitive bells with cat paw prints embedded in the crackling dough.

Even though it's falling apart, there's always a place in the branches for my baby Santa doll that used to nestle in the flocked branches of parents' tree and the fading cardboard-and-plastic nativity my husband set up on the family's Zenith in their Newhall living room.

So to pick one thing that means more than anything else from my more than a half-century of yuletide celebrations is tough.

I don't think my favorite gift is material. It didn't appear when a ribbon was broken or wrapping paper was shredded. It's almost part of a series, something I've received before and look forward to enjoying year after year.

It's the joy of seeing people enjoy opening a special gift. It's the pleasure-pain groan of friends taking that second portion of pasta or prime rib at our dinner table. It's the laughter of my three kids tumbling through the living room - the same room they crawled around as babies - my son throwing one sister over his shoulder, dragging the other attached to his waist as they squirm and tickle themselves out of breath. It's snuggling in the big chair with my sweetheart of 35 years watching "White Christmas" for the hundreth time and remembering when I first saw those lodge doors swing open to reveal the cinema snow.

I think my favorite gift is the time Christmas gives me to stop my crazy life long enough to appreciate the joy around me. It fills me with hope for the coming year and strength that no matter what the new year throws our way, we'll face it - together.

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