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It just is. Whether it's the heightened anticipation of seeing loved ones that only come around this time of year or the heavy ache that weighs you down because of those you'll never see again. Emotions seem to rush into high gear before the first fallen snow and then they settle in until it all melts away. Whether it feels like a block of ice that is lodged in your chest or a soft ember of thankfulness, 'tis the season for feelings. And they hit us from all angles.
I have to blog at Christmas time. I can't let the season slip by without a little emotional discharge otherwise I'll find myself victim to crying episodes that spark out of nowhere (well that happens regardless) and suddenly mass order chocolates from Harry & David simply because I saw their magazine in the mailbox...and why not?
But Christmas. Back to Christmas. The whole massive thing of it. I hear people talk about how they like it or hate it and why. I try to accept the things I cannot change and Christmas my dear, is here to stay. I have loved this holiday since I was a child. I mean if you're going to have to deal with frozen toes and wearing those god-awful moon boots we may as well get a reward for it! Give me the hope for that new Barbie doll being under the tree and I was willing to put up with just about anything....
Back to Christmas. Why do I really feel so fondly about this time of year?
It's simple. I was one of the fortunate ones. A child who was given the effortless gift of not having anyone ruin my view of it. I associated Christmas literally with "all things happy and bright" and was blessed to be brought up in a home that gave that me nothing short of joy around Christmas time. My memories are my feelings and it seems to have been locked in pretty early on that Christmas is a time of happiness. It didn't take much to be honest. My parents were who they were and did what they did without realizing the impact it would have. Their imperfectness and simple way of doing things was etching memories to be carried on through my lifetime. The greatest gift they gave was never showing me a single reason to not love Christmas. Christmas in my Mother’s eyes was beautiful and special and fun and there was no other way about it. Disliking this holiday never appeared to be an option. It was that easy.
My parents weren't so much traditional as they were routine. Every year it was similar and every year it was wonderful. A huge highlight was how we all went as a family to get a "real" Christmas tree. I don't know how on earth some of those trees made it in the house being 3 times the size of the door frame but thankfully my Dad is a determined man. Looking back now I realize why Mom stored all the ornaments way down in the basement and we weren't to go find them until the exact moment when Dad was trying to get the tree in. No doubt there were some “naughty” words that would escape during this tree ordeal and Mom wanted us out of earshot. I do recall wondering why my Dad kept referring to our tree as a "son of a bitch" and somehow knowing that was not a type of pine...
I just wanted him to get the damn thing in the stand, determine exactly what part looked full enough to be showcased in front and then make it stay upright long enough to deem it fit for decorating. And that was the BEST part. The multi colored big bulbs, the ornaments from years past, that odd looking angel in the red dress, and oh the smells of Christmas came to life. The woodsy tree mixed with the fireplace burning... cookies in the oven... it was all heaven and I can feel it like it was yesterday.
And then there were the cookies. Every year the same. Every year it was wonderful. The sugar cookies were the most fun. We would take turnings passing around Mom's premixed bowls of colored frosting and make a complete mess (on purpose of course) so we could lick our fingers. Germs don't count at Christmas time. The smell warm sugar coming out of the oven makes my belly happy. It's the memories. The simpleness.
Back to Christmas. It was wonderful. Every year. Simply because it wasn't not wonderful. I don’t recall a single bad memory involving Christmas. No family fights. No going between homes or fighting about gifts. No worries. I was lucky that my parents were together and we were a family. I woke up in the same bed in the same brown house in the same small town every Christmas morning throughout my entire childhood. I'd go to sleep with the same anticipation and wake up with the same excitement on Christmas day for years. It was bliss, pajamas full of static and all. And as long as there were enough mashed potatoes to go around and enough cookies to take you through the new year, we had all we needed to be happy. I never knew it to be any other way and had no idea how that ordinary life was in its own way extraordinary.
I will always reflect back on memories around the holidays. The beautiful ones take center stage. I think of my Mom constantly. Her smile. Her bright blue eyes. I miss her in a way where the very thought of her face makes my eyes sting and my heart throb and then the tears…. As if on cue drip down my cheeks. There’s always sadness mixed with joy! Holidays = emotional times, remember?! To me she was part of the reason Christmas is so wonderful. She made it so. I will continue to look at it fondly in honor of her. Every year Christmas will come and every year it will be wonderful. I won’t have it any other way.
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