Bah.......

I resent the christmas tree. I resent the way the very smell of the thing can transport me back to a time when my world was small and my family close and my biggest fear was if I'd get the New Kids on the Block poster like my best friend Kris had on her wall. It's stupid twinkling lights beckoning memories of me my sisters on christmas eve opening the pajamas we were allowed to open every Christmas Eve and even though we knew they were pajamas we were excited none the less because that very act was only the opening ceremony to the magicl festivities that continued with us laying in our beds until the anticipation of it all exhausted us and with one ear cocked to the ceiling in case the sound of hooves was just loud enough to rouse us we drifted off to sleep. Our presents were never "extravagant" but our parents did all they could to make sure we were never dissappointed. A feat, which I have come to learn in my later years, is not always as easy as I once thought. All that tree represents to me now is worry, and sorrow and empty wishes. I worry about money or my lack there of. Babies grow, and the barbies and polly pockets are replaced with Ipads and smartphones. Unfortunately, full-time jobs are also replaced with part-time paychecks. I fear the onslaught of Christmas dinner. Making nice with replacements who just don't quite seem to fit in our family the way the originals did. Awkward conversation where laughter and love once resided. Empty seats that once were warmed by loved ones now gone. What happened to those feelings? It didn't happen all at once. Every year of gaining burden and less prosperity moved ever closer until one day there was no excitement at all. Now it's just a tree. A horrendous , messy thing of amusement for my cat. The dog drinks the water out of it faster than I can put it in and there are no presents under it to deter his slobbery slurping. Yet at night, as I'm preparing to head off to bed and the last thing I turn off is the tree lights, their warm glow seems to soften the shadows in my home as well as my heart and I have a sense of those old feelings somewhere deep inside. They don't bubble to the top but just knowing they still live inside of me is enough. It's enough to let me know that one day my daughter will never have to feel the way I do about Christmas right now...and maybe neither will I.