DPP :: Dec 21 :: {{ whole }}

 Happy is he who still loves something he loved in the nursery: He has not been broken in two by time; he is not two men, but one, and he has saved not only his soul but his life. 
Gilbert K. Chesterton 

This past year saw me become a true orphan with no direct family older than me left on this earth.  At this time when family is so important, so intrinsic to our personhood, I am finding comfort & joy in traditions passed down from those bygone generations.
My grandparents moved to Washington state just after my mama was born and never left the town they helped establish.  The friends they made in those early years became my "aunts and uncles" and extended family.  One such family were the Browns.  Ray and Bert (short for Roberta).  They lived across the street from Grampa & Grama & were ever present in the day to day workings of our farm life.  I'm not sure when she established the Cinnamon Bundt gifting but it became a much anticipated and awaited part of our Christmas breakfasts.
When I grew up, married and moved far away from home, I called Bert to ask if I could have the recipe to continue the tradition.  She shared it graciously (from memory! She didn't even need to go look it up but just began to recite it.).
It's especially poignant this Christmas.  Bert passed away just a few months ago.  All I knew of the life I had as a child is gone.  The farm, the people, the home... but many of the traditions established still surround this season. Still surround me.