Pre-Christmas Reflections

Is it really almost Christmas already? I think I say that every year. Honestly though, the past few weeks have whizzed right by. And I'm also at the point where I can say that the past few years seem to have whizzed right by, too. Just in case you haven't picked up on it yet in any of these posts, I am one of the most secretly sentimental 22-year-olds I know. Fittingly so, I find it nearly impossible not to be in a near-constant reminiscing state of mind-- especially on Christmas. (I wonder whether my tendency to over-analyze and over-sentimentalize everything in painstaking detail is the the mark of a writer's mind, or insanity. Or both.)

I remember my childhood Chrismases pretty fondly like anybody would. They had all the right elements: presents under the tree, seeing [almost] all of my cousins, endless amounts of chocolate, etc. Indeed, Christmas is experienced in its purest form when we're children, when it consists only of toys, food, and fun. There's no stress or drama yet; that privilege is reserved for the adults (unless you're like Charlie Brown: wise beyond your years).

But of course, when the obligations and conflicts that the holidays create start piling up, the pure joy gets slowly filtered out. That's what happened as I got older-- much of the magic started to disappear. Like any child on the verge of adolescence, I lost my faith in Santa Claus, realizing that Christmas presents were not mysterious gifts from the North Pole, but the direct result of my parents' hard work and everyday sacrifices.

Coupled with that was my falling away from the Church. It became harder to sing songs like "O Holy Night" at Mass when I couldn't appreciate them on a deeper religious level like I was supposed to. I wish I was more of a believer, not because I'm "supposed to" (thank goodness my family doesn't force religion upon any of us), but because I'd probably get more out of Christmas. (I'm not a full-out atheist, but I'm doubtful that God exists, if that makes any sense.)

But hey now, don't get any ideas-- I promise I'm no Scrooge. If anything, all of us are surrounded by Scrooges these days, what with the neverending talk of the recession and uncertain times. Life isn't easy, but I'm just grateful that my family and friends are alive and okay. We have a roof over our heads. My parents still have their jobs. I have a job. Life is tough, but at least we have life. That might seem like a 52-year-old's way of looking at the world rather than a 22-year-old, but I guess I'm an old fogey.

Most importantly, I don't need dozens of glittery, sparkly presents to enjoy myself, or else I'd be buying into the whole holiday sham. I see through the facade of our gift-obsessed culture and I refuse to get lost in it. I do like getting gifts-- who doesn't?-- but I don't need a gift to verify Christmas (and I'd much rather give them). That might sound hopelessly cliche, but a lot of people still don't get that.

Recent years have also brightened my holiday season like never before, ever since being lucky enough to share it with someone special in my life. Some of my favorite memories of our relationship are from Christmas activities and events that we experienced together: making gingerbread houses in the Italian Kitchen at Villanova, visiting the Rockefeller tree, attending and hosting holiday theme parties. "Merry Christmas Darling" by the Carpenters sums up my feelings pretty accurately at the moment:

I've just one wish
On this Christmas Eve
I wish I were with you
I wish I were with you.

I never thought twice about all those melancholy Christmas songs until I was in love, of course. And yet the hurt of missing a significant other is also something to be grateful about-- I'd rather have her to miss than no one at all. But for now, I'll have to be content with listening to the Chipmunks' "Christmas Don't Be Late," making a vanilla pudding pie, and putting up a few last decorations with my mother. Merry Christmas, readers.