Thinking Man's Christmas Eve Spectacular!
The Deep End #3
Ho ho ho! Merry Christmas! The time of year wrought with frantic gift buying, obligatory text-message holiday wishes, decorative lighting hung up at the hands of a frozen ten-year-old on orders from his watching father, hard feelings during present exchanges, and plenty of sugary food to stuff down your gullet and clog those arteries. There will be awkward forced small talk had over candied hams and stuffed pheasant. Perhaps even an untimely joke when you’re caught under the mistletoe with an aunt or two, if you’re lucky! And it’s all topped off with a credit card statement two weeks from now that will have you saying so many swear words, you’re sure to be placed on the naughty list come next year.
There’ll be gifts for giving. Presents to present. Cookies for cooking. Sweaters to be sweating in. Television for watching. Weight to be gaining. Ho’s to be, uh well… And at least one blissful day off before it’s back to a six AM wakeup and your mind numbing job.
When will corporate America understand that we need a vacation from the vacation? A holiday from the holiday? I think I get more rest on work days than the fifteen-hour shifts that make up my stringent holiday schedules. This year was some form of miracle.
FOUR. STRAIGHT. DAYS. OFF.
Know what I did with them? Vet appointments, house cleaning, gift buying. Two days, down the gutter. Today’s schedule consists of gift wrapping, giving, eating. With a rinse and repeat scheduled for the big day that Jesus dropped out of Mary (allegedly— I’m talking to you, Jan. 8th) tomorrow. Then it’s back to work. It all seems to go by quicker and quicker these days.
I remember back when I was a kid. Sitting in a classroom. Must have been no older than second or third grade. The sun was already setting over the baseball field in the back of the school. I’d peer out the window. Almost four. Just about time for dismissal. The dark blue sky was getting ready to be engulfed by night. The last few rays of sunlight were barely peeking out over the horizon. My nonno was probably already outside waiting to walk me home. I’d meet his frozen hand into my own. Then we’d find my sister. The three of us would walk the five blocks to his house, where Nonna would be waiting. Cooking dinner. Getting everything ready so that when my mom came home from work we could all eat together.
My little shit twenty-year-old brother was one or two back then. The good old days.
It would already be dark by the time we got into homework. No later than four-thirty. The back door would be steamed up from the oven fumes as my nonna prepped chicken cutlets or something.
I’d probably have finished my homework next to my sister. Eagerly anticipating the ability to read Santa Paws—it was almost Christmas, after all.
Nonno would have the news on. He’d sit in his chair, the only one that reclined, set directly facing the TV. I’d be in my post, at the seat closest to him, on the couch skewed sideways. It was either the pink or brown one back then. I’d read for what felt like forever as he either watched TV or tinkered with something that needed fixing at the table. The news would be on. His old shoemaker steel mold would be standing next to the TV.
Days felt like eternities back then. To me, at least. I wonder now if they moved as fast to Nonno as they do to me now. Probably.
The table would get set. Christmas commercials, back when they didn’t play three months in advance, would play occasionally. Maybe Nonna had the radio on in the kitchen. Dominic the Donkey might have been on. Butterflies of excitement filled my chest. I had been waiting for Christmas for the past eleven centuries, or eleven months.
We’d all sit down to eat. Nonna at the head. Nonno to her left, in his spot. Me seated next to him in my spot. My sister and brother in their respective positions. Artichoke would be set onto the table. Nonno would grab one and cut the bottom off to save for my mom, his daughter. It was her favorite.
Suddenly, a knock at the door. My mom’s face would appear from the darkness, poking through the frosted glass of the back door. Nonna would open it.
In came my mom and my aunt. They worked together at the same place in LIC. It was a Wednesday. Zia Maria always came over on Wednesdays and erupted the house with her happy energy. It was our favorite day of the week. A year or two into the future, Uncle Joe, her husband, would pass away and she’d move back home to Kansas City.
Sometimes my dad would come, if work allowed. Across the street was my uncle (my mom’s brother), and his family. Sometimes they came, too. Just a regular old Wednesday. And suddenly my nonna’s tiny basement would be jam packed with fifteen people for dinner.
A little Christmas tree stood on the table tucked into a corner. It was all we needed.
No big presents, money, or headaches. Just family. Together and happy. No pressure and no strings attached. It was our very own holiday, and I was lucky enough to have them every day as a kid.
Now Nonno is gone. The kids grew up. My sister has a kid of her own (damn I feel old!). So forget everything I said at the beginning. I can be a real a$$hole about some of this stuff. (My family will definitely let me know if and WHEN I am. Good thing none of them read this. Thankfully they don’t. Well my dad claims to. Right, Dad?)
Where was I going with this whole thing? It was supposed to be funny and light. Like one of those Christmas episodes all the shows used to do. Where did that somber tone set in? I guess that’s as much a part of the holidays as anything else when you start to grow up. The people who were there pass on, grow up, move out. Suddenly, something that had always been never is again.
So I guess what my subconscious was trying to get me to realize is this: as much work as the holidays may be, they’re worth it. Even if it’s just to get an ounce of that old magic back. What we once had at the drop of a hat back then.
Try not to let life pass you by so fast. Stop and enjoy what’s happening around you. Because things change. Things you think are guarantees turn into far gone memories. Appreciate what you have, the people you can be around, and whatever else you might be taking for granted.
Happy Holidays from The Deep End. Got one more to go before the new year. Let’s kick it off with a bang! Merry Christmas!