home is where the heart/h is 2010

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Mom’s big red brick house on the hill was like a Christmas card in winter.

In 2010 we spent lots of time in the living room by the fire and the tree, which together created as beautiful a country Christmas scene as might be imagined. I built a snow woman, as I did every year when the weather cooperated. This time I piled too much hair too high on her head, and she was soon decapitated by above-freezing temperatures. She couldn’t be repaired, so I transformed her body into a heart that stood steadfast just outside the window long after I returned to Dubai. The birds sometimes perched there before going to the feeder, Mom told me when I called from the other side of the world.

Sometime between Christmas and New Year’s Eve we joined friends for dinner and then dancing – in their kitchen. Mom, as always, was the life of the party.

“Blond and red-haired chicks,” the country singer sang.

“Red haired chicks – that’s me,” Mom said to our friend John.

“You were a redhead?” John replied.

“Oh yeah, I was a redhead,” Mom quipped. “One of the wild ones.”

“I should have known,” John said. Then he grabbed her hands and they started to dance.

I hope you’re singing and dancing Mom, wherever you are.

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