His Own Heart Laughed

Scrooge was better than his word. He did it all, and infinitely more; and to Tiny Tim, who did not die, he was a second father. He became as good a friend, as good a master, and as good a man, as the good old city knew, or any other good old city, town, or borough, in the good old world. Some people laughed to see the alteration in him, but he let them laugh, and little heeded them; for he was wise enough to know that nothing ever happened on this globe, for good, at which some people did not have their fill of laughter in the outset; and knowing that such as these would be blind anyway, he thought it quite as well that they should wrinkle up their eyes in grins, as have the malady in less attractive forms. His own heart laughed: and that was quite enough for him.

-A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens

There was too much food, and Dad and Beth are leaving today for Paris. So we were sent home with food. This morning, I made a frittata with sliced shitakes, potatoes, and onion. Sprinkle of cheddar and sprinkle of parmesan.

It just struck me that I was simply keeping Christmas in my heart one of those "all the days of the year" that Dickens talks about. The connection of part of my meal coming from family, the remembrance of the more ornate and still more intimate meals that we shared together on Christmas Eve and Christmas.

Wherever you are today, and tomorrow, and 192 days from now; Merry Christmas, happy holidays, and a tasty year to you.