The Great Family Christmas Revival

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The Great Family Christmas Revival
Imagine a father who looked forward his whole life to the day when he’d have grandchildren of his very own. And then imagine that father having a daughter so headstrong and selfish that she decides she’d rather live thousands of miles away, in some country that speaks a tricky foreign language and that he’d have to travel 16 hours to reach. My poor, unsuspecting father.  Little did he know on that cold January day in 1994, as he watched his 20-year old only daughter board her plane for a semester abroad in France, that the 6 months would spiral into 15 years and that she’d pick up more than a working knowledge of French along the way. Sure, he said to me several years later, he knew I’d probably fall in love while I was there, but instead of the clichéd fling with a French waiter, I’d gone and got myself an English husband who just so happened to share my love of France and desire to live there permanently. What’s a father to do?  He was proud of me for following my dreams, happy to hear that his sometimes reckless daughter had actually turned out fine and found herself a good guy who seemed to be looking after her (even if the guy’s English accent made him sound a bit suspect.)  My father slowly grew accustomed to our new long-distance relationship, with the occasional visits and some painfully expensive phone bills. Over the years, modern technologies like Skype, webcams and yahoo backgammon have made our long-distance father/daughter relationship a little bit fuller .  It has made it a little easier, too, for him to come to terms with being a grandfather from a distance.  Over the last 7 years, my father has watched his granddaughters grow up through his webcam.  Every Sunday, over his first cup of coffee in the morning at home on the Oregon coast, he chats with the girls while I sip my apéro and make dinner here at our home in the south of France. Sure, between his visits, he has missed a few of their milestones-teeth falling out, learning to swim, to read, to speak in two languages and to ride bikes without training wheels, but he has managed to be there for some really great moments, too.  He was here for my first daughter’s birth, pacing around the French hospital, unable to speak the language but nonetheless, stopping everyone he could and telling them the news and handing out cigars.  He put the first set of training wheels on the first bike, pushed the girls endlessly on the new tree swing at the new house, and has filled our house with every glitzy, flashing, musical Christmas decoration Avon has produced over the years. But the holidays are always the hardest.  For various reasons, our visits haven’t coincided with any of the Big Days, and there is always a little tinge of sadness in not being able to share in the festivities together.  I think as a family we have single-handedly kept France Telecom and Hallmark cards afloat over the years. So now imagine the joy my father is feeling as he prepares for his trip to spend the first Christmas in 15 years with his daughter and his grandkids in France.  This year will mark a special time in their memories with American grandpa, because for the first time he will be there to see their shining eyes on Christmas morning.  I’m looking forward to watching him reacquaint himself with the girls and watching them teach grandpa a word or two in French.  He’s coming out for three weeks, plenty of time to fill the memory bank, and more likely than not, to send him back home feeling grateful that all he has to do when the girls start acting up is turn down the volume or shut off the webcam. Having said all that, I think the thing I’m most excited about is me getting to spend Christmas with him again, after all these years.  Because even though I’m a mother, I’m still his little girl at heart. And even though I’m living the life I’ve always wanted here in France, there’s nothing like being with family for Christmas.  It will be the perfect icing on our Christmas gâteaux.
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