I was surprised by how good our Christmas was. There were certainly some difficult moments (for instance, if I ever meet the guy responsible for the song The Christmas Shoes, I’ll be hard-pressed not to poke him in the eye), but by and large, it was lovely.

Sarah helped a lot: I found a cache of gifts for her family, wrapping paper, grocery lists, and a sketch map of the house detailing where the decorations should go. I think she would have been proud. I didn’t try to make cookies, and I only had the energy for one of the four huge bins of ornaments, but we hit all the important highlights.

We spent the holidays surrounded by family. My mom flew in from California and stayed with me, my sister drove up from North Carolina and stayed with my dad, and we all joined Sarah’s family for their celebration. We were at Sarah’s parents’ house on Christmas Eve, and we hosted breakfast at our place Christmas morning. Then we all went to Sue & Lou’s house for Christmas Day. There were 20 people there and it was joyful chaos. Everyone had a grand old time.

Nate’s number one gift was the Pixter, a sort of electronic coloring book. It has a scribble mode, connect-the-dots, paint-by-numbers, and a couple other things that he hasn’t figured out yet. It is absolutely perfect for him to play with on long car rides. He calls it his laptop.

A week or so after Christmas, we drove up north to visit Leigh and deliver her new computer. I had packed a bunch of FireWire cables in my laptop bag, to assist in transferring her data from the old computer.

It just so happened that this was the day of our first snowstorm. As you know, we’ve never had snow in New England before, so no one knows how to drive in it. Folks were slipping and sliding all over the place. We must have passed twelve or fifteen disabled vehicles. A drive that usually takes a little over an hour ended up taking two and a half hours. At the two-hour mark is when I realized that I had left my laptop bag at home.

So I was gritting my teeth and trying hard not to scream obscenities. Nate asked me what was wrong, and I growled out that I was very angry, because I had forgotten my laptop. He said, “Daddy, it’s okay! Because I will share my laptop with you. Now you don’t have to be angry.”

And my heart exploded. Which is very lucky for the Radio Shack employee who told me that there’s no such thing as a six-pin-to-six-pin FireWire cable, because without Nate’s calming influence, I think I would have bitten him.

Today would have been Sarah’s birthday. In keeping with tradition, we kicked off the Birthday Week Extravaganza on Saturday.

Sarah’s perfect day was breakfast at Zaftig’s, then the New England Aquarium, and lunch at Pizzeria Regina. I didn’t feel like waking Nate up early, though, so we skipped Zaftig’s.

We arrived at the Aquarium just as they were opening, and met up with Sarah’s good friend Jess and her family. Nate enjoyed the penguins, but his favorite was the puffer fish. My dad liked the jellies. For my part, I always love to see Myrtle the turtle having her breakfast.

Then we walked over to Christopher Columbus Park. It was freakishly warm for January, in the high 60s, so Nate ran around and around on the playground and climbed on the vaguely boat-shaped jungle gym. This used to be my absolute favorite playground when I was a child, but the wooden Ewok Village I remember has long since been eaten by termites and replaced with a generic metal-and-rubber climbing structure. Safe, but homogeneous; whatever it was that made it special when I was little is long gone.

Finally, we wandered through and around the North End until we found Pizzeria Regina. Sarah used to be my navigator; she once ran a company that led ghost tours through the North End, so she knew it cold. We had to rely on MapQuest. I am literally lost without her.

Happy birthday, Sarah. I love you.

And so goodbye to 2006.

Come back with me for a moment, twenty years ago. I’m in high school, busy having my heart broken for the first time. I know there’s nothing unique about that. Everyone should have their heart broken a few times. I learned a lot from it.

Fourteen years ago. I’m in college, and my heart is broken again. It isn’t the second time, nor even the last time, but it is without question the worst time. I’m devastated. Ever since then, Christmas has brought back painful memories.

That winter, I spent a long time trying not to think at all. But after a while, in spite of everything, my brain gradually came back online. And a strange thought occurred to me. That was the worst, I thought. The worst. The worst? Yes. Hm.

What are the odds, I thought. What are the odds that it could ever be that bad again?

I hear you laugh.

The next thirteen years… it was life, is all. Some very good, some very bad. But sure enough, no matter what happened, nothing even came close to being that bad. Deep down, I knew I was lucky, to have experienced The Worst so young, and to have survived.

Well, you already know the punchline. “How do you make God laugh? Tell him your plans.” Today, I can see so clearly how young and stupid innocent I was at 21. I’m even old enough now to know that I’m still young, even if I can’t truly appreciate how young.

Lately, I’ve been haunted by this Douglas Adams quote:

the sort of calmness that comes over people when they realize that however bad things may seem to be, there is absolutely no reason why they shouldn’t simply get worse and worse

…which is approximately where I am at the moment. Calmly I read the news from Washington and the Middle East. Calmly I experience 70-degree temperatures in January; I admire the inflatable snowmen, and think of the glaciers that are already gone, and the ones that will soon be gone. Calmly I drive in the first snowstorm of the year, watching cars slide slowly into each other and crumple up against trees. Calmly I remember that Sarah’s cancer is hereditary, and think of Nathaniel.

I try to remind myself that what I am thinking and feeling now will, like as not, seem completely ridiculous to my 50-year-old self, should it be the will of Allah that I live so long. I try to remind myself to stop second-guessing the universe. But I can’t help feeling just the opposite of what I felt in college:

We were so lucky, Sarah and I. We found such perfect happiness together. What are the odds that it could ever be that good again?

We bought our Christmas tree last Thursday. Nate picked it out, and my sister helped me get the lights on it. Then on Friday, Amadis came over after work and we put some ornaments on it.

When I opened the box containing Sarah’s stocking, I broke down and sobbed. Nate asked, “What is it?” and I think I managed to tell him.

I tried to keep his hands off the fragile ornaments, but I misjudged one. Santa riding a goose; it was one of Sarah’s favorites. I thought it was tougher than it turned out to be. Of course Nate dropped it, and it shattered. He was shocked; he was so sorry. I told him it was my fault, and he shouldn’t feel bad, and I gave him a big hug. And I was sort of surprised to realize I didn’t feel anything. I guess after a while, you reach a point where it just doesn’t get any worse.

And you know, they were all her favorites.