Repeat the Sounding Joy
"Christmas waves a magic wand over this world, and behold, everything is softer and more beautiful." ~Norman Vincent Peale
A few years ago, I happened upon my parents divorce agreement. For the record, Peg had given me explicit permission to go into her top drawer, in case I needed to find out where her will and power of attorney agreements were located. Anyway, when I found her divorce agreement and of course read through it, I learned that my father was to get my brother and I every other weekend. Holidays looked a bit murky and from what I gather, they were given to my mother, but by the grace of God, it never seemed that way. While Thanksgiving we’ve always spent in our home, Christmas has been one of constant tradition. One that I have diligently kept for the past 17 years.
Around 11, my father comes to pick up my brother and I from my mother’s house. We then go to lunch (we’ve upgraded from McDonald’s to the food court and now with my Oceanaire eating palate, I think we might trade up to Houlihan’s). After lunch comes the best part of the day; the movies. It’s like the one movie visit I look forward to all year. Sure I go every weekend, but for some reason going to the movies on Christmas Eve with my father and brother is one of my favorites. Garrett and I watch and my father drifts in and out of slumber, maybe even snoring a few times intermittently. After the movies and walking around the mall, we head home. Now, I suspect that the origin of this holiday tradition was so my mother could wrap our presents without us underfoot. When we get home, there are presents set in neat piles (I get the left side of the tree, Garrett gets the middle, and my mother gets the right side). In our rooms are our new pajamas, slippers and another part of our ornament collection. I collect Pooh ornaments. The rest of the evening is church and my mother’s best friends Christmas party. Two words: Bourbon. Balls.
Come Christmas morning, we have – without fail – required that my father schlep back to our house and be there promptly at 8AM. We’re now, 22 and 19 and he’ll still be required to be at our house by 8 AM. If he’s there later, I have no problem starting without him. Garrett, wakes me up in the morning, by climbing into my bed. He’s now twice the size of me, but my God, I look forward to it every time.
I’ve not written about Christmas, because in all honesty, I get too excited about Christmas to write a coherent sentence. How am I to write about how fucking happy this holiday makes me and that I LOVE (fucking love) hearing Carol of the Bells every day?
I hope that y'all have some kick ass holidays. Here's hoping to a new Coach bag and a vcr/dvd player.