Image the diabetic being handed their favorite tray of glucose coated sugar bon-bons or the Jewish man's plate filled with delicate sliced pieces of pork that squeal non-kosher: this is the holiday season to me. I call it my favorite holiday, yet I fear its annual arrival of stress, time and money jingles. On the verge of sounding cliche, every Christmas I look forward to being with my family. Being raised to praise the lord on his birthday didn't feel as sentimental as drinking eggnog around an Oregon fur log on fire while shredding clearance wrapping paper to reveal my newest/greatest pajama set. The three folk that make up my family are always so understanding of my disappointment or over excitement of a gift.
This year being my first year away from them brought on a dark blue black dark grey cloud of sadness: I was going to be steaming silk dresses, serving whiskey sours and delivering office mail for Christmas. Worst part- I thought this was an okay way to spend a holiday. Thanks to a friend who I have considered family for the majority of our friendship, this sad supplement was quickly thrown out and homeward bound I went, just in time to curl up with two fluffy lap dogs and have a piece or two of beyond mouthwatering pumpkin pie.
Christmas gleamed brighter this year than ever before for me, as a time of self understanding and love (thank you Ken). Getting to see where I came from and who granted me the buoyancy I have in my current swim was the greatest gift of all. Last night I was walking through the down poor of a San Francisco storm, attempting to drink my americano at a hour unsuitable for coffee while wondering if my boots were worth keeping on as they now were two tiny bath tubs. Each time I went to sip the cup, the rain water collected on top of the lid poured into my mouth. I laughed and kept laughing as I felt like a soggy lost soul walking to a bus that I later found out is no longer in service. All I had aside from Ray LaMontagne on my iPod was my mind. I retreated to my Christmas break and the time to come in Oregon and the stories I have gathered in California. I thought of him, the person that makes me smile before I have opened my eyes in the morning and of her, my best friend who is beginning a new life of prosperity and health. With the simple reminder of what makes me pulse, I was warm and dry, capable of crossing any puddle between the sidewalk and myself. A noteworthy close to 2010 to what I hope to be a "paragraph worthy" 2011.
