sixty years

We spent Christmas with a group of people that I am blessed to call family.  We have been going to my grandparents' house since I was a baby; I fear the upheaval that will take place when our family tree has branched into too many separate branches to continue celebrating Christmas together.

This year seemed a little more special; not a moment was taken for granted after the year of ups and downs with Grandpa's health.  And also because we celebrated sixty years of wedded bliss with my grandparents who tied the knot on Christmas day in 1950.

We are all here sharing such a special time together because two people fell in love.


Sixty years is a lifetime; I can only hope to follow in similar footsteps and to create our own family legacy with special traditions.

With three children, seven grandchildren, and three great grandchildren, there is never a dull moment in our family.  Toss in the menagerie of Christmas cookies, three squealing kiddos, a bottle of wine, and board games and you have utter chaos; a welcomed chaos so full of love swirling it nearly brings joyful tears to my eyes.

A replica of the cake made sixty years ago.  A newspaper clipping of their wedding announcement.  The black and white picture that depicts her dress as white, though it was actually lavender.  The knowledge that they cut their cake with hands as one in the very same house sixty years ago.

Hearing Grandpa prattle on about the amazing wife he was blessed with and seeing their continued blessings in front of them.  

The toasts, the cake, the ice cream.  Sixty years.

We are all connected by the familial tie.

Because two people fell in love.