I remember Christmas at my house when I was growing up - it was more than just a holiday, it was an event. In the weeks leading up to Christmas, I would send out "the list," a somewhat ridiculous and extremely detailed holiday wish list distributed to my immediate family. My parent's would drop my brother, sister, and I off at Target (or the mall in our later years), and I would carefully select items for each of my family members.It was fun to sneak through the store, leaping into aisles to avoid potential gifts being seen by my siblings. Following the shopping trip was days of wanting to spill secrets, but holding them in instead. Sometimes my brother and I would get in a fight, and threaten to withhold presents, but they'd always end up under the tree come Christmas morning.
The night before Christmas was spent making cooking and cakes for Santa and the neighbors. My sister and I would make dozens of cookies and my mother would put the finishing touches on her rum and fruit cakes. We'd leave cookies and milk for Santa, and a side of carrots for the reindeer, then I'd head off to bed, surprised by how easy it was to fall asleep.
I'd spring awake early in Christmas morning, and run into my parents room: 1) to wish them a merry Christmas, and 2) to let them know that I was awake, and that it was time to get this show on the road. Next I'd make sure my sister was up, and then together we'd begin the long process of waking up our brother. Anywhere from 20 minutes to an hour later, we'd all head downstairs to the tree and one by one we'd open our presents. Inevitably, "Santa" would have run out of time to wrap the last presents for the three of us, and they would end up in the trunk of my dad's car... Santa was funny like that, but it always made for a nice climactic moment.
After presents came Christmas breakfast - eggs. pancakes, bacon, potatoes,french toast and fresh-squeezed orange juice... the only time the juicer came out all year. It felt like such a special occasion drinking orange juice from the fancy glasses. After the breakfast dishes were clean we put on our snow boots, hats, and gloves and deliver the cakes and cookies to the neighbors, then play with our toys, watch our movies, or listen to our tapes for the rest of the day.
I miss those days. Slowly over the years with divorces, marriages, babies, jobs, moves, the traditions have changed...well, they've disappeared really. No more early mornings, no more cookies or cakes, no more carrot sticks, no more juice in fancy glasses. This didn't happen over night. It was a slow progression, but for some reason this year it feels like that band-aid just got ripped right off.
I think I've just been craving home. I feel displaced. New York is where I love, but it certainly doesn't feel like home, and then to come here wanting what I had, but it just being off. I guess you can say I'm suffering from a case of the holiday blues.... or maybe I've just got the blues... and it happens to be the holidays.
All this change, I know it's for the best, but sometimes...
Maybe I'll just pour myself a glass of fancy orange juice in the morning... for old time's sake.
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