As far back as I can remember, you and I have never had a good relationship. I don’t like you, and I’d be very surprised if that ever changed. In fact, I’ve never really made any effort to change that. It’s not really your fault, though—it’s just that the image everyone has of you doesn’t exist here.
My memories of you from when I was younger are pretty fuzzy. My brain probably didn’t think it was worth saving them on its hard drive. What I do remember are drunken conversations, arguments, misunderstandings, too many people, too much noise, and a little girl staring at the clock, wondering what time it would be okay to ask Mom to leave. A few trips back and forth to the visiting room at the correctional facility. The drive was way too long. I was the only child for a very long time—maybe that’s what prematurely killed the magic of Christmas in my little girl’s heart. That, and maybe when I saw my grandfather talking to someone else—namely, the person who was going to put on the famous suit.
Luckily, there’s the food aspect, because anyone who knows me knows that my weak spot is my stomach! I’m not talking about the dry turkey and the stew, but the little appetizers on the table! That, at least, consoles my heart for my lack of enthusiasm toward you.
Over the years, we’ve created a sort of “orphans’ Christmas.” No one is left alone at Christmas—that’s common knowledge! I have no problem with the concept. It works for me just fine. Now, though, the core members of the family are becoming fewer and fewer. Since my uncle passed away, the atmosphere has been heavy. The void is present and palpable. A few weeks ago, my grandmother went to join him. I’m having a hard time imagining that there won’t be some awkwardness when faced with that empty rocking chair.
Now that I have kids, I’m trying my best not to be the worst Christmas Grinch the world has ever seen, but I have to admit it’s not a sure thing. I don’t like it, and I’m talking to myself really loudly so I don’t pass that off to my kids. No Christmas tree before December 1st—okay! A whole month is plenty!
This year, my best friend suggested a new plan: a blended-family Christmas dinner. Her, us, my daughter’s godmother and her partner, my adoptive brother (as an only child, I’ve adopted one over the years!), and my not-so-reliable cousin who’ll probably cancel—but I think it’ll be nice to add that to the festivities, which are already a bit too packed. At least that will be nice!
Christmas, I don’t like you. I doubt that’ll ever change, but you never know! Just in case!