Christmas comes but once a year…

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Saturday’s are an important part of anyone’s diet. You need it to relax, to finish weekly agendas, chores, trips, sleep overs, parties, shopping, etc. Saturday’s are important…

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Today my dear cousin and I set out to purchase some sleds for the coming winter, outlet shopping and stroll downtown New London for small business Saturday.
If you’re ever in the neighborhood of bank street stop by the Bean & Leaf Cafè. It’s modern and vintage, homemade and local, anything you’d want in a small town coffee joint.

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Winter does funny things to people, for some it causes muscle pain, for some it’s excitement for the holidays and for me it’s nostalgic.

There are memories that float in the icy breeze through my sweater and up my heart. And although usually good, they are now bittersweet. This will be the first holiday season without my daddy, and my first birthday without his card, altogether.

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My wonderful favorite cousin and best friend lets me crutch on her so much without her even knowing. She off-key sang Christmas songs with me while helping me decorate my house…my daddy’s house…the one that every year he, my brother and I would put together our very tattered artificial Christmas tree and decorate while listening to a mix of Country and Christmas music on the radio.
…before my parents separated I remember being small, very small, and wandering around while my parents and siblings would decorate the tree. I was too small to really do much but I would help hand the ornaments off to my brother and sister. I remember there was one ornament that was a real waffle cone with a scoop of soap ontop covered with glitter. My brother dared me to bite it and I did (since toddler me thought it was edible) and I’d quickly wince. But every year I’d always bite it, and when my parents went different ways and it was just us I’d wait until I was alone and I’d bite that inedible ice cream imagining if I would think of that memory I had from so long ago when it was a loud house with life and love time would turn and my family would be together again. It’s not sad because I’m happy I got that time with my dad alone, more so now than ever. But now, I think if I knew where that ice cream ornament from over a decade ago was I’d probably crawl upstairs in my old room, into my old cubbie hole of a closet and chin-to-knee take a small bite with a couple tears and wish my daddy was here. That I was back at that Christmas where we have a picture of my daddy holding me high, putting the star on the top of the tree. A genuine Linskens Christmas with Donald Bonnie Jennifer Christopher and Monica…like it was always meant to be.

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About Brunch At Tiffs

I love to write, read, crochet, thrift and reinvent. My hands make delicious concoctions and I love a good spur of the moment recipe. My life goal is to be a missionary for Japan. Oh yea and, Bunnies!...that is all...

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