Then we'd fix "Boat Drinks" and return to the beach.
I learned about Boxing Day from my Canadian friends. Those who had to work on Christmas, mostly servants, were given the next day off. Employers gave them boxes of left over food or perhaps a present for another year of service.
Over the years I prepared breakfast on Boxing Day in St. Martin, it was sometimes a lavish affair ... once there were almost twenty of us and Conner tried to play ping-pong ... and the last time, three years ago, it was just me and my Canadian friends. The day reeked of sadness and alcohol. My wife refused to go, remaining in bed, knowing that Christmas was over and she'd had begun the leaving process which would later stun me.
But I remember that day. I happily cooked for a family who dearly love one another. Over the years they were very gracious to me. I visited them in Canada and they came to Tybee Island. I wonder what they're doing today. We had many long dinners together. We danced often. I miss them. And I miss St. Martin.
But Christmas and Boxing Day have become entwined for me. The joyous celebration of the first slides into a subdued leftover. Joy hangs over though the reason has passed. I raise my glass to my Canadian friends ... to left-overs and left-behinds and the left-out.
The Christmas Tree is brightly lit though Christmas has passed. Were it up to me I'd leave it up until it's brown and needles litter the floor in an attempt to squeeze every single bit of Christmas out of it and stretch it throughout the year.
Happy Boxing Day.
And thank you Koster family.
