In years past, the house would be quiet at this time of night; the kids typically headed for bed soon after coming home from Christmas Eve Mass, while Char and I settled in the living room to wait for them to be definitely asleep. In our own Rockwell moments, we curled up on the sofa, mugs of hot chocolate in hand, bathed in the lights of the Christmas tree. It was the time we considered to be our Christmas with each other: just being there together in the quiet, no expectations beyond hushed conversation, and while we always discussed the kids and their excitement over the holidays, it was also the time when we took stock of everything we had to be grateful for. And without exception, the thing we have always been most grateful for is each other.

Foolishly I expected the same from this year. We went to an early evening Mass and when we got home the kids rushed toward the kitchen to make cinnamon rolls and hot chocolate, and when everything was ready they invited us to join them at the table. I presumed the conversation would be centered around what they hoped for tomorrow, but I was off the mark by a long shot.

They were certainly talking about Christmas Day, but what they were most excited about was that their grandfather would there when they got up in the morning, with Nika and Peter in tow. Erin and Miko would follow, and they couldn't wait to see how Travis would react to his first Christmas and whether or not Toni would squeal in that high pitched way little girls can.

They sat through the consumption of nearly two dozen cinnamon rolls (hollow teenage legs) and Char made more hot chocolate, and eventually I tried to herd them off toward their bedrooms.

Go to bed so Santa can come.

I was answered with laughter; I could not possibly be serious. Didn't Kevin admit already that he's got the whole Santa thing figured out?

All right. Go to bed so that Santa can, too.

More laughter, and spirited jabs at my age and need to go to bed before sundown.

I just wanted to spend some time alone with my wife.

Char didn't seem to be in any hurry for them to go to bed, and it hit me when the board games came out that this is just the next step in our familial evolution. We can still be wrapped up in each other in the moment and take stock of everything we have to be grateful for. Everything that matters was right there in front of us.

Right now Alex is playing Scrabble with Kevin and Rachel is helping Char get some of the food ready for tomorrow. I'm in the corner (where I belong, according to Rach) watching them all. This is something I could get used to as a new holiday tradition, for however long it lasts.

After the kids have grown and moved away, Char and I can pick up where we left off, on the sofa with each other, wondering how we got so damned lucky. I doubt I'll ever have the answer for that, but I don't think I'll ever shake the feeling of deep gratitude that of all the men she could have chosen, she chose me. And the thankfulness that goes with her still being here.

To all who followed along my agony right after her accident, I thank you for all those prayers and good thoughts, because that surely helped me have exactly what I have tonight. And for those who found this blog after she began to recover, thanks for sticking around.

I hope for all of you to have even half of what I have, because if you get that, you will be rich beyond measure.

Merry Christmas!