It's Christmas

Its a little known fact that Christmas is generally not one of my favorite days of the year. Probably for many of the same reasons people tend to hate-fest on Christmas now and then; the gift anxiety, the fam-dam craziness, the material consumption, busy business, the blah blah and hurrah hurrah. Its not a soap box and I definitely don't have a point other than to clarify that I am not a christmas lover, nor am I an avid hater- just not a big fan. It's the day we celebrate the birth of Jesus, have great excuses to lavish one another with gifts, eat more cookies than one knows what to do with, listen to annoyingly rhythmic music, and drink a little too much of your beverage of choice. For me its hot coca piled high with mini marshmallows, cup after cup after cup. This day also seems to be a constant nagging reminder of lost loves, or those men we have fallen for that don't love us back, not to mention the way you can seem to be alone even with so many people around you. The thing I do love is the way a holiday brings people together. My sister arrived late Christmas eve, she's a treasure. And though she only has 36 hours off work, she's making time together happen. Tonight I spent time with family I had not seen since this time last year, and with grandmothers whom are aging and the time seems more and more precious each year. If I have to sit through another I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas torture tune, it might only seem bearable with my brother at my elbow and a tall glass of red wine in my hand.

Today is Christmas. Its about 3 hours earlier than I would like to be awake, but I am still jet lagged. The cat is scratching at my bedroom door. I roll out of bed to go to the bathroom and when I return he is stretched out, sleeping on my pillow. I crawl back in bed and we snuggle. I lay under the covers hiding from the day, as the light slides through the window. There are 100 young men and women that live in a different world from me this morning that are on my mind. My phone rings not long after that, its my best friend recounting her gifts of the morning to me, and yes, she is an adult. She loves Christmas, in a makes me want to gag kind of way, but I love her for that. My father comes in and sits on the edge of my bed to report last nights dream. We ignore the fact that its Christmas. Soon I am sitting at the kitchen counter clutching a steaming coffee cup. Snow blankets the earth outside. My grandmother wanders from room to room, talking all the while about this and that, whatever comes to her mind. talking talking talking. My father dances in the kitchen to Keb Mo. "You should put Christmas music on" my mother keeps saying. No one moves to make any changes. She starts to talk about putting baby Jesus in the manger. It's a family tradition. Every year on Christmas morning, once the family has rolled out of bed, we gather at the table to put tiny, one inch, porcelain baby Jesus into a tiny wood manger. "Jesus is born!" Someone prays, someone cries, the rest anxiously await their gifts under the tree. I don't know why we do it, a little symbolism to mark an event that none of us are really sure we believe in. But we don't discuss our doubts, we just celebrate the life. My mother stands at the fridge now telling us about last nights sleeplessness that she spent thinking about Mary. "What if Mary's story is actually true?" She gets a little emotional. The blind dog, Roscoe, stands near my leg, his nose an inch away from the wall. He stands still, with purpose, but has no idea where he is. Taya, the other dog has a red bow tied around her neck and is running circles chasing her tail in the living room near the tree. My father begins to dance again near the stove where he is frying potatoes and drinking tea. I remain at the counter, sipping coffee being an observer of my world, and I smile. The endeavor to wake my siblings begins, it will be an hour before they are both downstairs sitting at the breakfast table, wrapped in blankets to their eyes. My brother has shingles and no sooner has he made his way down stairs, had he already moved to the couch and is fast asleep again. We spend the day this way, someone cooking, someone dancing, someone talking, someone drinking, someone sleeping. Soon we will leave to meet the extended family, but for now, it's Christmas in the Brady house.