Christmas

When I was a young girl, nothing could be more exciting than the first moments stomping down the hall on Christmas morning. My eyes were still trying to adjust to the light, I was sliding around on the linoleum in my fuzzy socks, still wearing my colorful nightgowns and ready and willing to destroy any wrapping paper that stood between me and the new treasures under the tree. I did not grow up in a house of wealth. Truth be told, there were some Christmas days that were met with little more than love. None of that mattered because my family always did what they could to make Christmas a fantastic day of joy and love and hope. We laughed together, we drank eggnog together until our stomachs turned, we ate too much to be able to fit into our new Christmas clothes and cuddled around the air conditioner while we watched A Christmas Story and pretended that the world was right. We had a tiny Charlie Brown Christmas tree that slanted to one side that sat on a television tray in the corner of the room. We had homemade ornaments. We had each other.

Things have changed. The shiny, glittering goodness of Christmas has given way to greed and commercialism. The competition for bigger and better has taken the place of laughter and joy. Sitting around the table with family and friends is now replaced with text messages to those you love. Special gifts specifically picked out for those near and dear are now just gift cards. You don’t get to hear the pitter patter of little feet running down the hall to open presents on Christmas morning because they are at mom’s house or dad’s house on the weekly time share. We do not drink eggnog, because it is too fattening. We do not use wrapping paper because it kills the environment. We watch a Christmas Story but it is not special anymore because TBS plays it all day and all night like a freaking telethon. The measure of my love for my family and friends is based on how many presents I give them, how much I spend. The pie is low-fat, the turkey is cruelty-free, the soda is bubble-free and the wallet is tragically-empty.

Christmas seems to have completely lost all its joy and innocence. I miss the old days. I miss counting on nothing more than laughter. I miss that feeling that you picked out the most perfect present for someone, something that they could never have expected, something they can never really thank you for but appreciate more than you know. I miss the smell of Christmas cookies burnt on the cookie sheet. I miss the sound of that stupid battery-operated Santa Claus. I miss the innocence of it all.

I want to get it all back. I want to crawl back into the safety of my youth. A time before I was jaded. A time before I was thrust out into the real world with its mean tricks and unforgiving nature.

That’s my Christmas wish for next year. All wrapped in silly, glittering paper, with a giant bow, too much tape and the best of intentions. Let it sit below my Charlie Brown Christmas tree, slanting to the side, on a television tray in the corner of my mind.