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Paedantic Basterd · 12-24-2011, 07:04 PM

Merry Christmas

I sat here for forty minutes, staring at a word document, trying to find a way to say what's on my mind, trying to work up the spirit to ask somebody to sit and talk with me. Trying to open a journal entry with vivid imagery of steaming plates and seasonal cutlery. Of cloth napkins and stupid paper hats. These are images I associate with the Christmases of my youth, when I was too young to follow an adult conversation, and spent the dinners at my mother's side picking at nuts and bolts and the stick of celery in her bloody caesar. I wanted to paint you a jovial picture, to distract you from the fact that I'm floundering on Christmas eve.

Every year I can recall, I remember post-Christmas discussion weighing on my heart. The family, the friends, the gifts, the parties. Accounts of success measured in electronics and drinks consumed. I've always preferred the giving side of Christmas to the getting. This year, the inevitable getting is weighing on my mind. It has nothing to do with perceived selfishness, or extravagance. I've never felt bitter about the gifts I've received; always useful, necessary items. Thoughtful, not superfluous. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't overcome with disappointment every year. I know that my mother would bestow me the world if she were able, and knowing the pleasure of giving, it saddens me that she cannot, but even that isn't the root of my negativity.

Five years ago my grandmother passed away. Two weeks before Christmas. I remember opening all of the gifts on Christmas morning that should've been hers. Every year since, my mother and I have had less and less. Fewer friends to party with. Fewer relatives to invite to dinner. Fewer gifts to give, except to one another. One less pet, then another. Less cards, less phone calls. Everyone has moved away, or passed away, or conveniently forgotten. This year we barely got baubles up on the tree in time, and it occurred to me how easily this could be just another day of the year.

I want to end on a thoughtful note, if I can't be cheerful or at least optimistic, so I'd like to wish anyone reading a merry Christmas. Please enjoy everything you glean from the season, but don't forget the small things that come together to make it possible and worthwhile.

12-24-2011, 07:04 PM	#107 (permalink)
Paedantic Basterd Music Addict Join Date: Sep 2010 Posts: 5,184	Merry Christmas I sat here for forty minutes, staring at a word document, trying to find a way to say what's on my mind, trying to work up the spirit to ask somebody to sit and talk with me. Trying to open a journal entry with vivid imagery of steaming plates and seasonal cutlery. Of cloth napkins and stupid paper hats. These are images I associate with the Christmases of my youth, when I was too young to follow an adult conversation, and spent the dinners at my mother's side picking at nuts and bolts and the stick of celery in her bloody caesar. I wanted to paint you a jovial picture, to distract you from the fact that I'm floundering on Christmas eve. Every year I can recall, I remember post-Christmas discussion weighing on my heart. The family, the friends, the gifts, the parties. Accounts of success measured in electronics and drinks consumed. I've always preferred the giving side of Christmas to the getting. This year, the inevitable getting is weighing on my mind. It has nothing to do with perceived selfishness, or extravagance. I've never felt bitter about the gifts I've received; always useful, necessary items. Thoughtful, not superfluous. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't overcome with disappointment every year. I know that my mother would bestow me the world if she were able, and knowing the pleasure of giving, it saddens me that she cannot, but even that isn't the root of my negativity. Five years ago my grandmother passed away. Two weeks before Christmas. I remember opening all of the gifts on Christmas morning that should've been hers. Every year since, my mother and I have had less and less. Fewer friends to party with. Fewer relatives to invite to dinner. Fewer gifts to give, except to one another. One less pet, then another. Less cards, less phone calls. Everyone has moved away, or passed away, or conveniently forgotten. This year we barely got baubles up on the tree in time, and it occurred to me how easily this could be just another day of the year. I want to end on a thoughtful note, if I can't be cheerful or at least optimistic, so I'd like to wish anyone reading a merry Christmas. Please enjoy everything you glean from the season, but don't forget the small things that come together to make it possible and worthwhile.