27 and Counting
There's something about the closing of a year that brings awareness to my personal progression and ultimate aging. Maybe it's the long nights that take with them my summertime energy, or maybe it's just the new lines I see under my eyes, but melancholy has seemed to follow me from my first sip of coffee until the time I pull the down blanket under my chin.I equate loss of youth with increased responsibility. Or maybe it's loss of freedom that comes along with the increase in responsibility. Funny thing, responsibility. I've wanted it since the time I was young, whether it be in the form of a driver's license or a place of my own. I work for it, I dream of it, I spend my money on it--but when I acquire that responsibility that I so thought I wanted, I feel like I lose something. Something. I'm not sure exactly what it is I lose. Maybe just a touch of freedom?
Maybe it's Christmas. Maybe it's the feeling of being responsible for the happiness of another, or just being responsible for giving in general. I am responsible for putting up the tree, wrapping gifts, baking cookies. I enjoy doing all of those things, yet the rebellious youth in me wants to reject all of that and leave until the festivities are over. The transition from believing in Santa to being Santa comes quickly, and all of the sudden you are in charge.
In charge of Christmas. I am in charge of Christmas. I am in charge of creating tradition and warmth and cinnamon-scented memories. I am in charge and responsible for all of this--it seems so anticlimactic knowing all the secrets. Knowing that Santa isn't real, that the beard is cotton and the carrots were bitten off not by a reindeer, but by an adult. An adult with responsibilities.
posted by Anonymous @ 7:42 PM
5 Comments:
Wow sissy! You have effectively put a few more nails in the mental/emotional coffin I have over the years been entombing the Christmas horror in.
Let's just say that I will have no Christmas tree, no pile o' presents, no carols, no Santa and above all... no stress. I am looking forward to Christmas. Not for the day or even the memories of Christmas's past. I am looking forward to December 25 for the sheer reason that I will be at home in Tucson with my sweet boy, my sweet sister and my sweet nephew.
Damn straight - I'm starting to Hate, hate hate this holiday. So we are fleeing the state. Yeehaw!
Good for you girls. Promise me you won't buy into the sickening commercialism that is Christmas. Promise me you won't give in to the Salvation Army bucket only because tis' the season. Promise me you won't send letters informing me what everyone in your family is doing...promise me.
I, Michele Hanson, do solemnly swear to keep Christmas out of my house, out of my heart, out of my sentiments and away from my pocketbook.
(and if I see Tiny Tim around I am gonna kick his crutch out from under him .... mwah ha ha!)
Har!
Charise, I think you and Anthony should drive in for Christmas eve dinner with me, Kurt and Elizabeth. We are having prime rib, plum pudding, butternut squash bisque, and other tasty things. Maybe that would lift your spirits!
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