Good Christmas

I bet most parents have spent a little bit of time talking about which traits their offspring inherited from which parent. Usually these debates come up when discussing something stupid the kid does, and takes the form of "He got that from YOUR side of the family", etc. Or when he does something brilliant, in which case you say "he's a chip off the ol' block, he is!"

My son's intellectual brilliance, creativity, and wit are obviously from my contribution to his genetic makeup. But his tendency to stay up late at night and sleep until noon are definitely products of his mother's DNA. (As for his eventual adult productivity and the quality of his contributions to society, it remains unclear whether they will evoke claims of credit or assignment of blame. At the moment, most of his behaviors fall in the "aw geez, what do you expect from a teenager?" category. Sigh.)

Anyway, because I am filled with early morning energy while he remains in hibernatory dormancy, I long ago developed the habit of going for a sunrise hike on Christmas morning. I could get out to enjoy the beauty of winter in Colorado and still be home in time for him to wake up and see what Santa brought. Not many people are out on the trails on Christmas morning, so it's a fantastic time to savor some solitude and contemplate the upcoming new year. I can usually go several miles and get some good exercise in plenty of time to make it home before Tanner's slumberland sugarplums have finished their dances.

So, even though Tanner wasn't even coming to Denver until later in the day, my early morning hike remained an appealing tradition. (More about his arrival later.)



I drove to the I-70 Park n' Ride near Matthews Winters park, and strapped on my snowshoes. There were a couple of other cars in the lot, but I couldn't tell if they belonged to other hikers or if their drivers had taken off for other destinations. The snow at the start of the trail had been fairly well trampled and packed down, but it was still deep enough that I expected the snowshoes to become necessary up on top of the hogback. I started up.

It was a beautiful morning. Not much wind, not too cold, and no signs of yeti nor timber wolf in search of a human upon which to snack. No signs of other hikers, either. I could hear the traffic on I-70 if I listened for it, but otherwise, the only sounds were the foop-fooping of my snowshoes, and my own energetic respiration. The sunrise wasn't spectacular by Colorado standards, but was still delightful. What a great way to begin my holiday!

My prediction about snow depth proved to be in error. Oh sure, there were several places where I could walk off the beaten path and find myself in deeper snow, but there were many others where the only choice was to stay within the flattened zone. And at the very top, the bare rocks were showing, turning the snowshoes into a burden rather than an aid. I took 'em off and carried them the rest of the hike.

I can't complain, though. Even with my hands full, I have to say that it was a lovely hike. I hated to quit, but after a couple of hours I figured it was time to head home and prepare for the prodigal musician's arrival.

Compared to adventures experienced by those of you with younger children, the remainder of my Christmas Day was pretty dull. Tanner's plane was on time, gifts were opened, and food was consumed. He shared details about his experience in Seattle, and about his new job at the restaurant. Our Christmas Day was not filled with uproar and frivolity, nor was it crowded with relatives or events that will necessarily be remembered in years to come. But it was perfect, nonetheless. Sometimes, just hanging out with the ones you love can make a day seem extraordinary, even when nothing much happens. Christmas was indeed such a day for me.

I hope you had a great one, as well!