To me, the holidays wouldn't be the holidays without these two wonderful women.
That's my Aunt Anna on the left and Aunt Rita on the right. By the look of things I would say that they are taking a well-deserved break from feeding a whole mess of us at some family get together long ago.
Time has altered their appearance a bit. Rita will be 90 very soon and Anna isn't too far behind.
Each lost her husband at a young age. For decades now they have lived together, currently in an apartment in Queens that is just above Cousin Joan's and near to several other members of our family.
My aunts are about as close as any two people can be. I know marriages—good ones—that aren't nearly as inspiring.
Anna and Rita are in my heart always, but never moreso than around this time of year.
I am lucky to be a member of the Christmas Eve celebration they host each and every year. It is literally a feast—the Feast of the Seven Fishes to be exact, totally worth clicking on and checking out—and I would no more miss it than I would lop off my right hand, or even that other one.
For a long time I used to wonder when the holidays might finally, inevitably lose their allure. After all, the years have a way of grinding away at the starry-eyed idealism that's required to truly love this time of year.
But I haven't grown at all weary. And in a very large way I owe this to the optimism and love of these two extraordinary women.
I am over-the-moon thankful to them for that.
Happy Holidays everybody.
