This Christmas, we are traveling to Austin and I cannot wait! I cannot wait to see my kids and hug them so tight no one can breathe. I can’t wait to feel some warmer weather winding its way into my chilled bones. I cannot wait to hear some Texas twang hit my ears and some stranger smile at me and say “Hello” simply because we are in Texas. I cannot wait for some tacos to hit my tastebuds and belly and my queso-level hit an all-time high. It is a short trip because Phoebe isn’t going and it’s crazy expensive and my person and I also need time over break to sit in our own house and simply be: be tired, be lazy, be content.
I do find that among this not being able to wait that I am also hit with some cold-hard facts I like to ignore from time to time. Things like my kids are not kids. They are grown adults. They have jobs and their own people and while I know they are happy I am coming, they are also living their own busy lives. Will recently got a new job and can’t ask for time off and I probably won’t even see him. Sophie doesn’t know when she has off yet and has her own set of Christmas plans. My person has a whole family of people excited to see him and we are also traveling with his small person who always has her own set of expectations. It will be a real adventure!
Confronted with a reality that is not at all what I pictured, I find myself wishing to be haunted by a Ghost of Christmas Past. We recently read “A Christmas Carol” with 7th grade Language Arts classes and if Scrooge got to see some good things, why can’t I? I’m no miser! (the fact that I don’t have enough money to see if I would be a miser does not count). And as long as I am dreaming up this entire thing, I get to pick out my ghost and where they take me to haunt. No embarrassing moments or remember when you were a jerk. Please, I have anxiety. I do that all on my own, especially at about 3am.
I would pick either the same Ghost as the one in “A Muppet’s Christmas Carol” or Wayne Brady. The first because he’s just a giant, good-natured guy and I like his robe. The second because he would sing intros to every scene we visit, just like he did in “Whose Line is it Anyway?”
Rebecca, here’s your first memory
We can see you there beneath the tree.
But much catchier and more about me. You know I pick a song intro over a good robe any day, so Wayne Brady it is.
Our first visit will be to me at age 10 at my grandparent’s house for Christmas Eve. I am ten, just a kid, not even a whiff of puberty, and all I care about is cookies and presents and me. We have eaten dinner and we have washed so many dishes that every ounce of counter space and table top are covered with mostly-clean dishes and every single kitchen towel is used and wet and retired. The entire family is there; we are full, we are loud, we are anxiously awaiting the signal from Grampa that we can open gifts: the scratchy sound of “Snoopy and the Red Baron” playing on the record player. To be able to see that scene. To be gathered in a room with people who are no longer here and hear their voice and listen to the laughter and love flowing out of that room. Yes, please.
Next up, Christmas when my kids were small and the season was magical. Santa is real. Joy is real. Wonder and merriment and have I mentioned joy? They are small, they don’t have jobs, they have me and whispered wishes to Santa. They look at the tree and I watch the lights reflect in their eyes and once again find myself believing in all that is good in this world: hope and love and democracy and rights for women and things like that. This will be so good, I will demand Wayne Brady take me back once more. If you are at this stage of your Christmases, SOAK IT UP! Love those clamshell toy packages that never open and twist ties that anchor your child’s joy to the box. It will be over so, so quickly.
Then, I want a visit with my mom. It doesn’t even have to be Christmas. Just a table and some coffee and my mom. My mom before Alzheimer’s. My mom who knew everything that was going on and happening and regaled me with which acquaintance had which new prognosis and fun facts about people I forgot about ten years ago. My mom who talked about everything and not just the three things she feels confident talking about now. We have a long way to go in this journey and it’s nowhere near as bad as it could get, but I still want more of my mom.
Finally, because Wayne Brady is my Ghost and he will need a song and dance montage to feel good about my haunting, we will end with just flashes of me looking and being my very best. Pepper in some pictures of people long past, maybe forgotten, he will end on a high note, musically, and I will move forward in this life with the warmth of Christmases past in my heart and the knowledge of many wonderful Christmases yet to come. Scrooge’s haunting made him change his ways; I just want a chance to appreciate the things that went by so quickly.
Writing that makes me realize I need to appreciate this Christmas present, even if it isn’t living up to what I pictured in my head. I will appreciate this trip with my person and his small person. There will be joy among the madness. I appreciate his family that is so willing to include me, and my kids, in their plans. I will appreciate that warm, warm sun and seeing some green on trees. I will appreciate whatever time I do get with my kids. And the next time Wayne Brady comes to show me Christmases past, I will tell him to take me to the one where queso flowed, the sun beamed brightly, and my person and I laughed and laughed about nothing and everything all at once.
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| The first bowl. And if you are not reading that to the tune of "The First Noel", I am very disappointed. |
