it is late on Christmas Eve. I am drinking and thinking. These annual markers (Christmas, New Years, birthdays) that we set up for ourselves lend themselves to (dictate that we engage in) self-reflection.
One of my first memories of Christmas eve was when we lived on Polo Road in Winston-Salem. We moved there when I was four and moved away whne I was seven, so this is somewhere in that time frame. '77 to '80. I remember having a dream on christmas eve that Santa came, but he only existed as s yellow shadow flitting across the walls, and that somehow I was in trouble for having seen him. It was a slightly sinister dream, all that I remember is being freaked out about Santa's visit. Every year, even now, I remember that dream.
So many years later, my wife is asleep in the bedroom, I am up, drinking bourbon at nearly eleven pm on Christmas eve. I have gotten to where I don't believe in Santa, which I think is a loss. KJC and I were talking about it earlier tonight, about the relentless assault of carols, about the enforced joy. It is easy to get pissed and angry about all of this.
I am joyous. I love my family. They love me. We are incredibly wealthy, we have jobs and a roof over our heads. We have so much to be thankful for. And tomorrow, when we wake up, we will have present giving and love-declaring, and for another year we will live.
There is a guilt that comes with this, of course, a feeling that we should be giving what we have to those less fortunate. I am still trying to figure that out, and I know there is a way. But for now, I am thankful. My family is here, even if they are distant geographically, and they love me and I love them.
Tiny Tim says "Happy Christmas, every one." Even if the Christ thingis not your thing, I echo the sentiment. You who read this, you are loved. This year has passed, and we are still here. We have another year ahead of us, and we will all work to make the world better.
Happy Christmas, y'all.
1 comment:
At about the same time last night, we too were up - being Santa. Musing about this odd day of the year where we get to perpetrate a myth, become a myth, choose to participate in pretending to be an elf or a minor diety. WeeE doesn't know yet much about Santa and is still not frenetic to get her gifts. This is the first year she'll start to form that belief.
We mused on the darker sides of it too... Less bourbon and more dark rum and red wine on our side, but similar thoughts. I believe it is okay to give the darkness some room too. The darkness is why we put a festival here and now and to deny it with vapid carols and multi-colored blinking lights is... well, maybe part and parcel of the celebration at all. Deny it or embrace it, the darkness is as much the reason for the season as any, yes?
Without that dark, would we be as grateful for the family and friends? I hope so, but don't know. I know that it makes it all more visceral and real to me. And I am more deeply grateful now than the rest of the year.
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