You can tell it's Christmas when you are sitting, waiting for long-ago friends to arrive. You can tell it's Christmas in England when those friends have flown seamlessly across the Atlantic but have been delayed for hours on British trains! So I sit, watching the rain, waiting for the doorbell to ring, remembering.
Amy and Barry were my closest friends when I lived in Providence, Rhode Island. It is so long ago now, that their 2 year old son, who I used to baby-sit, is now 25. And in all those years, we have seen each other rarely. A brief visit when we were living in California, a week's visit to England with their sons more than a decade ago. But as soon as we talk on the phone or share a glass of wine over Skype, I am immediately warmed by the pool of sunshine that was, and is, our friendship. I met Amy in the library where we were both volunteering and on that very first day, she invited me back to her house for coffee. There is nothing more welcome than an invitation to someone's home when you are far from yours. And so began almost 2 years of midnight cocktail parties, delicious meals and hours of laughter and conversation. Even white-water rafting when Amy couldn't stop laughing when she told us, on the way, that there would be moose near the hotel and my English friend who was with us said "What a shame. If I had known that, I would have brought a teaspoon!"
And the doorbell has rung!
They are here.
Christmas has truly begun.
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