Crackling Firelight Christmas ’20

WHY WILL EVERYTHING BE THIS WAY?

Before every photoshoot, I always pray for good weather and hope everything will run smoothly: that we won’t run out of time, that the location will be right, that the setting will look the same on camera as it does to my eyes. But this time I had only one wish – that everyone would be healthy and able to come.

For several nights, I kept imagining what we would do if someone got sick or couldn’t make it, and I realized that without each person, this photoshoot simply wouldn’t happen. Our little forest of Christmas trees, the snow machines, the freshly baked apple-and-cinnamon pie, and the carefully arranged scene would all crumble into nothing. That’s why every phone notification felt like a potential warning.

On the morning of the shoot, when everyone finally arrived, I breathed a deep sigh of relief. The hardest part was done – we were all there. And everything else suddenly felt easy: the long day, the imperfect weather, the misting rain flattening perfectly styled hair, the children’s mischief, even the early darkness (or maybe the lack of daylight at all).

At the end of the day, tired but happy, we declared the shoot a success. The computer, filled with new photos, now “had Christmas.” It felt like the work was finally over.

But Christmas time is truly magical. Even after 15 hours of “playing model,” when I could barely move without a tractor—or my husband—helping me, suddenly all four of us found a second wind. And we started cleaning: vacuuming, hauling Christmas trees, carrying beds, shaking rugs, untangling garlands with tiny fingers. In just an hour, our home, which had briefly turned into a photo studio, was ours again.

Near midnight, slices of Grandma’s apple pie on our plates, we talked about the long day. And in that moment, looking at my tired but happy family, I felt it…

The real feeling of Christmas quietly settled in.

At home.
In my heart.
With my own.

V.