The snow covered fields, smell of pine, and family….my memories of the Holidays are always a lot more enjoyable than reality. When I was a kid, the excitement of Winter Break and Santa would consume me starting in October. My parents would break out the threat, “Santa’s watching,” and my grandmother would bring over the JCPenny’s catalog to help with our lists. Christmas carols, gift exchanges, and crafts all made December a month of joy. Christmas Eve was magical, and my precious grandmother would play Santa with a stack of gifts that reached the ceiling. In the morning at my own home, Santa would never have enough room for all the presents. They would litter the living room floor, filling every available spot, and sparkle in the light of the Christmas tree.
My brother would wake up my sister and me in the middle of the night. He could never make it until morning, which is probably why there was a rule about waking my parents. In those wee hours of the morning, we would sit and admire all the wrappings and packages. It didn’t matter at that moment what name was on the presents. It was about the lights and the colors and looking at the greatest sight of the year, in our small lives. That tree was our Eiffel Tower or the Grand Canyon; we couldn’t imagine anything more perfect. For the rest of the night, my brother would guard the tree curled up on the couch. We would have to wait until 8:00 to wake my parents and only after starting the coffee. My sister and I would return to bed as visions of sugar-plums danced in our heads…whatever sugar-plums are….waiting for morning to come. Of course, my brother would wake us again at seven to open stockings and wait for the time to wake Mom and Dad.
I am not sure if I have my imagination or my brother to thank for making us stop and stare for just that short moment. In the middle of the night, we knew we couldn’t open the presents or argue. During that time, we just appreciated the view and the moment. Those nights were probably the only times when the three of us got along.
It is amazing to think that children can love Christmas so much, and then as adults not so much. The Holidays are none of these things as an adult. Sure, my mom can still spread out the presents to cover the floor, but I have wrapped all the presents for her before Christmas Eve dinner. My grandmother is no longer here, and my brother lives too far away to come home every year. Not that we would be in the same house for him to wake us up in those early hours. Not to mention the lack of snow we face each year because of Global Warming.
In November now, I don’t worry about Santa’s eye so much as I worry about how I will get presents for my nephews and nieces. How will I treat my parents or my siblings that don’t need anything but the thought? The gift of giving can help recapture those memories of my brother and sister, but it is only a glimpse. My nephews’ smiles and laughs can recreate the Eiffel Tower for only a moment.
In December now, I dread getting out the tree and decorating it. It takes the whole season for me to find every little thing, and then another month to put it all away. As a single gal, my tree is empty of presents by Christmas morning. I have to buy gifts for myself and the cats, just so we have something there through the morning. For my brother, I do sleep with the tree’s lights on, just in case there is a Santa. No one wakes me up though, and I normally sleep past nine. The day of Christmas isn’t much more than another day of Winter Break. It’s a letdown even though I know it will be each year.
At Christmas dinner, as adults, we don’t rush. We used to beg for everyone to finish their coffees and cigarettes. Now as adults, we try our best to find things to make them wait, but often we are as impatient as them.
In my thirties, I would say that out of all the Holidays Christmas is at the bottom of my list. Yes, I know what Christmas is about and all that, but the Santa Christmas is not all that it used to be. Memories are still made. And I appreciate that. I love my family. This just is not the holiday for single, childless (thankfully) adults with too many bills.
Mishaps Today 