Christmas on the Roof of the World by Ernest Hemingway
“Chink knocked at the door.
“‘Merry Christmas, mes enfants,’ he grinned. He wore the early morning garb of big, woolly dressing-robe and thick socks that made us all look like some monastic order.”
It is Christmas morning, and, as this reading arrives in your inbox, I will be gathered in the family room with my brood, each in our robes and thick socks, performing the time-honored ritual of gift-giving and hug-receiving. The coffee is brewed, the fireplace is roaring, and the tree is casting an other-worldly glow that will shine forever in our memories.
Should you have 11 minutes for a charming diversion today, perhaps as the egg casserole bakes or while getting spruced up for dinner, I have something well off the beaten path from a familiar name. In “Christmas on the Roof of the World,” Ernest Hemingway shares his diary of a Christmas spent skiing in the Swiss Alps. It beautifully captures the ephemeral freshness—the comfort and joy—of this special day.
Please enjoy…
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