It’s 7:18 a.m. and Jon and I are sitting at gate T15 at the Atlanta airport, bound for Spokane (ultimately Moscow, Idaho) via Denver. My family, ever committed to maintaining tradition, all rolled out of bed and downstairs to the Christmas tree at 5 a.m. to open presents together. Jon thought we were crazy to get everyone up so early, but it worked out just fine. What champs! Showed him. At this point they’ve all been back in bed asleep for at least an hour.
I know plenty of families that exchange gifts on Christmas Eve, but the Poes are not one of those. Mom worked at our church when we were growing up and I’ve had choir jobs since late high school, so Christmas Eve always been sort of a working day with its own protocol. Things that can’t not happen on December 24 include: going to church; eating a late-night second dinner at Waffle House (the one on Roswell Road); and watching hilarious holiday family videos from the ’80s. Watching the midnight service at Atlanta’s Cathedral of St. Philip on television isn’t totally mandatory, but usually happens as well.
Our flight is about to start boarding, so I’ll sign off from ATL. (Dispatch from Idaho to come later on.) Merry Christmas to all!