Surviving Christmas

No, you are not late, it is only December 21.  But my Christmas is over -- all but Christmas Day.  I had my celebration this past weekend.  My older brother and his wife were in town, so we had our family celebration early.  That meant I had four decadent meals in three days, as well as a day of Christmas cookie baking.  It was a lovely weekend.

And now that my holiday celebration is over, I find that I am sad about that.  I truly enjoy picking out gifts for people, wrapping them in colorful paper and tying fanciful bows.  I like to see people unwrap the surprises with excited anticipation.  I like to watch as they lift the items out of the boxes.  I like to see their reactions when they realize what the items are.  I like to find the perfect gift and I like to then give them to people.  I like to decorate my house.  I like to trim a Christmas tree, I like to hang stockings, I like to set up the nativity scene, I like to move the three wise men along the table to the creche, I like to sit listening to the story of the birth of Jesus on Christmas Eve and then carefully put the infant in the creche.  I like to watch NORAD’s Santa Tracker.  I like the idea of playing Santa for people, even my parents.  I like dropping little things, a silly orange matchbox pickup truck, a bag full of Brach’s Christmas nougats, or a bundle of scratch-off lottery tickets into stockings.  Even as much as I dislike candles, I like lighting an Advent Wreath.  I like the magic of the season, I like the tradition and the pattern of the holiday season.  It has been eighteen years since I have had a full-on holiday celebration.  I miss it.  I want the twinkling lights and sparkly ornaments, the silly Holly Hobbie stocking with the little doll in a pocket on the toe my grandmother made me because I begged for it.  I like to see the festive holiday lights on houses, hear the familiar sounds of traditional carols.  I like the holiday season.

For the eighteenth year running, I am biding my time until I can create new traditions in my own family, until a time I can celebrate Christmas not merely survive it.