82 YEARS OF CHRISTMAS
I am picturing Christmas as a graph, peaking up and down over my 82 years. With highs and lows. Not remembering the first, not remembering some in between. And I sit here thinking of many I can recall, from places on the graph, in no particular order, some a good memory ~ others perhaps not as much. And I think it may be the same for many.
There is that Christmas morning, up too early. Babies are crying, drowning out the sounds of holiday music coming from somewhere in the room. I see other family, the older ones, they sit on the fringes or to the side, often a cane propped beside the chair. Torn wrappings and ribbons litter the floor, mothers attempt a futile clean up. Another scolds a child, his cheeks as rosy-red as Santa's, for he has tossed aside a gift he did not like or want and she tells him he must be good, "thank the giver just the same". But he sulks, just the same. Christmas chaos, Christmas, version one.
Christmas, version two is usually seen only in a Hallmark movie, I don't have those in my memory bank. Yet there are so many version two's that are fun and good and full of laughter, still with wrapping and ribbons littered about. And someone trying to serve orange juice and pastries to hungry kids while the good smells of bacon plus more are drifting from the kitchen and we all know we'll soon trade gift opening for breakfast ~ I treasure those and look back on them often.
And it then Christmas begins to repeat itself up and down that graph, the Yogi Berra "de ja vu all over again". Those little crying babies have grown to become the scolding mothers, the rosy-red-cheeked boy is putting together Lego's with his own boy and it is I who sit with a cane, to the side in observation of the chaos: the chaos and laughter and love and joy of a new generation, celebrating together as it has been done over and over again in families throughout time.
The places may change. The homes may change. The people in the pictures ~ in my mind and heart ~ yes, they too change. And one day, Christmas, version three will take place. I will not be here to see it, but I hope, I pray, and I believe it will come and will be one of love. As it should be. For that is what Christmas is all about, that is the gift of this day. Open your gift and keep it in memory.
