Our Christmas was family coming back together for a few precious days to love, cook, wander and laugh heartily with each other. Men folk went out to shoot empty bottles and cans in the beautiful high desert and women folk gathered in sunny spots on chairs to chat about, well, anything and everything. In the cool dark hours, after bellies were full to brimming and wine glasses were replenished we all sat around together and laughed voraciously at things that would hardly translate into re-countable words. Cheeks ached and tears streamed. "Good times" is all at once the perfect description and an understatement.
My father's family is the kind of people who I can count on to extrovert love upon me and to fold me into to their fabric as if I had been there the whole time. I feel a freedom being held in such love and I get swept up in emotional upheavals when I watch my child have the same experience.
It was a special Christmas.
We're special people
We can be pretty entertaining
We love to have fun (and force our children to take a picture mid-fun, before sending them on their merry way)
And we love each other to pieces
It's a pretty rad time to be a Joris (I still lay claim to the name don'tcha know) and now I know why my dad made up a chant about how awesome it is to bear such a name. This one's for my peeps down south, Joris Pride!