Christmas Letter #1: Missing You At Christmas.

Dearest Dawn,

I'm bundled up because you know how cold it gets around here. It was something like 60 degrees yesterday. It was so bad that I was forced to take drastic measures. I took off my flip-flops and put on socks.

I'm telling you this because it's -15 degrees (with wind-chill, whatever that is) where you are.

Yes, I'm rubbing it in.

I tried sticking my head in the freezer to get a feel for what you're going through. I gave up after 10 seconds. And my freezer is only -2 degrees.

What I want to know is: 1. how do people actually survive that hostile climate called Chicago? and; 2. isn't it time you moved back to California?

I'm drinking a latte in your honor today. Cheers and scumps to ye olde Christmas cheer! It would be more cheery if you were here in person. We could wrap presents together and laugh about the funny things our kids say. You would open my gift and say, "Awww, Loll, that's so sweet."

And I would open your gift to me and say, "Awww, Dawn! You bought me a better gift than what I bought for you!"

You always bought the better gift. Remember when you saved your money for MONTHS when we were kids just so you could purchase me that Amy Grant album? Or that Gameboy?

I don't deserve your love. I never have. But you've never begrudged me one bit of it.

Even when I decided I wasn't going to walk with the Lord anymore you would still call me and say: "Hi, Loll! How are you?" I told you to leave me alone. You never did.

You just kept praying and calling. I'll never be able to repay that debt.

When I came back to the Lord you welcomed me with open arms. I could tell you had been crying. I knew I had hurt you. But you never held that over my head.

You've taught me that true love is unconditional.

Sometimes we still disagree. This year we even voted differently. I got all huffy about that. In return, you sent me a YouTube video of a hilarious SNL skit.

I laughed 'til I cried and then I sent you an email: I'm sorry.

When I called and apologized for being such a stick-in-the-mud, you forgave me. Of course you did. You always were the peacemaker. You still are.

Merry Christmas, Dawny-cakes. I love you.

And next year, I expect you to be home for Christmas! We'll celebrate by surfing together at Huntington Beach. Ok, Ok. I'll stop rubbing it in.