The long weekend of July 14th through July 18th was a happy reunion for our family.

On Friday evening, we drove to and converged on an Airbnb lodge off of the fifth green of the golf course in Angel Fire, New Mexico, which would be our home until Tuesday morning.

It was a happy time because my parents were there, with all of their kids and grandkids- and some in-laws, and even the beau of one granddaughter.

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Eight months earlier, in the waning months of the pandemic, my parents caught COVID in the middle of December. By the time we kids were aware they were ill, Mom had had it long enough for it to settle in and start attacking her body. Within a week, after we tried so hard to help her fight it off at home, she was in an ambulance and headed for an ER.

Over a dark next three months, COVID invited some friends to join the party within her- pneumonia, sepsis, arrhythmia, several UTI’s, blood sugar level spikes, oxygen level tanks- and during that time she went from hospital room to a horrible nursing home, and then when her oxygen saturation levels plummeted, quickly back to hospital room, then ICU room, then hospital room, and then again to a crappier nursing home.

It was a rough several months spent visiting mom in these foreign spaces, where my dad set up his second home, and we all waited to see which direction her body (and life) would go.

There were a few very worrying days when she was in the ICU and her vital signs were in dangerous territories.

But then, two months in her, body woke up and she fought her way back from the brink.

In joy, we were all so excited when she came home from this perilous journey in February- only to have her recovery stall when she reached for some coffee in her kitchen one afternoon, and still weak from being ill for two months, she fell and broke her leg.

Another ambulance ride ensued, another anxiety-riddled visit to the ER, and then immediate surgery to pin bones together. And my thoughts went to the survival rates of older people who break key bones, wondering if she could climb over this challenging setback.

After surgery, mom was kicked out of the hospital within a few days, and defying the suggestion that she spend more time recovering in a nursing home, the family decided she would press her luck rehabbing in the familiar space of her home.

Through the benefits of my dad’s incredible insurance, we had a hospital bed put in her room, and copious OT, PT, speech therapy, and nurse appointments set up, and my dad- in a remarkable display of servanthood and fidelity- took care of feeding and changing and medicating and cleaning her (and himself, and maintaining their home) for the unfolding month as mom dealt with a painful, slowly mending hip and leg.

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My brother and his family had planned to celebrate the 2022 holidays with us for the first time in years, and instead of festivities, he and his wife and kids came to Albuquerque to spend their vacation with a sedated Grammy in her hospital room . We took turns daily just being with her, watching for signs of her improvement, and squeezing in socializing when we could.

Sometime during their visit, Mom was fairly lucid and from her station as an intubated patient, a suggestion emerged that she fully endorsed. We would have Christmas in July- on a weekend around my dad’s birthday- in Red River.

The idea took root, and in May, a plan developed.

Lodging for several families in one place was hard to come up with in Red River for the weekend we wanted, but Angel Fire, another town up north we enjoyed, had a few options we considered- and one we settled on: the golf course lodge.

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So, we converged on Angel Fire and settled into our weekend home, which featured a long comfortable deck that looked east towards the fifth hole green and on the mountains across the valley. A lot of time was spent sitting on that deck, casual conversations peppering long looks across about the area.

We spent Saturday afternoon in Red River, where many of us rode the chairlift up the ski hill (and where I, in shorts without sunscreen protection, fried the front of my thighs), went to the big brewery for a late lunch, and then walked a bit up and down main street to visit shops.

We enjoyed a casual day around the lodge and Angel Fire on Sunday, and took a late afternoon hike on a nearby trail to an overlook point that, well, offered uninspiring views- but we met some mule deer on the return leg of our walk.

On Monday, after a brief morning celebration of Christmas and family, we headed into Taos and visited the pueblo and the town plaza for a while in the afternoon. We came back to the lodge and warmed up a bunch of enchiladas from Papa Felipe’s for my dad’s birthday dinner, and then we had a little party for him in the great room, which we all enjoyed.

On Tuesday morning, camp broke and Scott and his family headed north for Nebraska, and the Albuquerque clan caravanned over to Taos, south by the gorge to Pilar, and on through Espanola and Santa Fe on I-25 home.

Beside exchanging triple-digit temperatures for the cooler climate of northern New Mexico and being able to forget work and worry for a few days, Christmas in July was a reminder to me that we were fortunate to have what we have now- our folks, and our family- which, I think, was the gift we each celebrated over the weekend.