So it's just weird this year. No one's going to miss 2020.
In Boston there is a rainstorm, high winds, and temperatures near 60. That's incomprehensible except in the context of (lol) everything else this year.
The sabotage of the USPS means a lot of gifts didn't make it on time. I'm still waiting. I feel for parents having to deal with this. I feel for people worried about making ends meet. I'm luckier than a lot of people, even though I have actually already spent roughly an hour doing work duties.
Sigh.
The holidays are notoriously difficult for people anyway; it's easy to get blue. Last night the streets were eerily quiet. Stores are closed, but no one is traveling ... at times like this, the noise abates and that "monkey brain" can get to prattling. You can only outrun your thoughts for so long.
So most won't see family this year, which is sad. And many think of the family they'll never see. Christmas in America is a memory factory. It's a conditioned response.
My mother loved Christmas. She went all-out for it every year. Decorating the house. Special dishes just for the season. Insane amounts of gifts. She was born in rural poverty in the 30s so when she got to a stage in life where she could blow it out, she did. It was charming and came from the right place.
My dad was probably even more disadvantaged as a child. He didn't respond to that the same way as my mom. An interesting psychological study no doubt.
My brother, once we grew up and branched out, we grew apart. I have great Christmas memories spent with him, because when we were kids at some point it became an annual tradition to fly to Michigan on or around Christmas Day to spend a week visiting my late crazy aunt. Those trips in a lot of ways became the best Christmas gift of all because of the amazing adventures we had experiencing a week of winter activities in a foreign land.
An example: ice skating on a frozen pond, followed by a trip to a cider mill. Exquisite.
All memories now, though. Those people are almost all gone. So it's natural to be a wee bit wistful about it.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not sad today. Wistful is indeed the right word. I've been not only blessed to have those memories but blessed to have new ones... it's literally all (or at least mostly) good ...
One of my favorite Christmas songs ... and the tears are now falling as I look at the lyrics ... is "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" ...
"Through the years we all will be together
If the fates allow
No one really knows where our lost people go, or if they go anywhere at all. But today let them all be together in your mind, and in your heart. That's the real gift.
