Last Christmas I was asked to share some of my holiday stories with the Bayside Singers, a local volunteer choir right here on the Long Beach Peninsula in southwest Washington state.
They matched my stories, and those of others, to seasonal song selections and twice on the first Sunday of December, we all performed in the holiday show.
Afterward, one of the singers invited everyone back to her house for lasagna, salad, and garlic bread. It was a festive occasion, everyone dressed in their “Sunday best,” but with much laughing and camaraderie, and I was thrilled to be a part of it.
December’s a happily bustling time of year, and I had much left to do before the big day, so I was among the first to thank the hostess and head for my car.
Outside the house, I could see many silhouettes of those still inside as they gathered around the spinet piano, still eager to lift their voices in song. The strains of familiar carols wrapped around me and I stood stock-still, enjoying the Norman Rockwell moment. But how could he have managed to paint the softly sentimental and purely nostalgic sounds wafting through the night?
My to-do list waited just a little longer.