Of all the Christmas lists I’ve read, the list my grandniece Blakely gave to her BB (Aunt Brandi) is my favorite. Five-year-old Blakely, already quite the artist, drew pictures of what she wanted. The list began with a coloring book, an outfit with a bow, a doll, and a necklace, then there were Ziploc bags and a watermelon.

“Ziploc bags?” Brandi asked.

“I’ll need them to pack up the watermelon to bring to school, of course.”

“Of course. But it may be hard to find watermelon right now. Is there another fruit you’d like?”

“No, only watermelon.”

So, on Christmas Eve, Brandi will be the person scouring St. John for a watermelon. Well, maybe I will, too. I want to be prepared in case Blakely comes to my house.

If all goes as planned, I’ll spend Christmas Eve cooking gumbo, going to church, and a not-so-quiet evening of hosting my family. Some will likely grab a bowl of gumbo before heading to watch the bonfires burn. Others will be content to camp in my living room.

If that day is like almost every day, at one point I’ll look around knowing I’ll never find the faces of the people I love who are celebrating in Heaven. My heart will whisper a “Thank You, God” for putting people in my life who were so easy to love and so difficult to live without. Then I’ll jump back into stuffing my heart with new memories.

And at the end of the evening, if there’s any leftover watermelon, I’ll pack it in a Ziploc bag for Blakely, of course.

Ronny Michel can be reached at rmichel@rtconline.com.