Adventures of Yesterday

We used to lay in bed restlessly; telling jokes and squirming about, excited about the morning and the presents under the tree. We wondered when Santa would come and fill up our stockings by the tree and hoped that it was not more deodorant shoved inside. We questioned who would get the sacred velvet box, the legendary box that my mother used to put the most precious of presents inside. It was a vessel of greatness and wonder. We may have climbed into bed at ten o’clock but by the time we fell asleep it would be close to two. Our bodies were so overcome with exhaustion and wonder that by the time we fell asleep, we were too tired to even dream about the presents and glory that we would find just a few hours away…

How I longed for those days this year on Christmas Eve. My sister did not climb into bed with me immediately. Nor, did we do so until into the late hours of the night anyways. I had been elsewhere, enjoying my Christmas with my boyfriend and she had been here all night, relishing in the argument we had in the church parking lot in front of my mother. It was two in the morning when I climbed in between my sheets and I felt like it was another night. There was no fuzzy feeling in my cold basement, or even a sister to laugh with and reminisce with about the days where we would not wait for Santa to show up. I was alone, with my phone. I thanked him frivolously for the wonderful  night. It had been the most family-oriented night I had in… well in a few years. My heart sunk at that thought. It took me to find joy in someone else’s home, where at mine it clearly lacked. It made me want to cry, but I knew those tears were not worth it. I said my goodnight and sent love his way. Sleep came effortlessly and I was gone.

I woke up around nine thirty. The day seem to have a little magic to it, but I told myself to not be convinced until I rested my hands on something fascinating, with my mother smiling and sister giggling at our cat. A faint sweet scent floated around my room and I knew the french toast was ready. I woke up my sister in great haste, but she squirmed a bit and acted as though this was just another day of the year. I felt like a little kid all excited for Christmas. Get up! The presents are waiting! No. She laid there. I took a trip up the stairs only to find my mom and her boyfriend eating the eggnog french toast together on the couch. I immediately wanted to cry. Here it was Christmas and they didn’t have the decency to wait for us so we could all eat together. I tried to brush it off, but I was more than a little offended. I went back downstairs and retrieved my sister once more. We trotted up the stairs and depressingly grabbed the ugly blue glass plates for our french toast. I sat at the table alone. The french toast was soft, but had a rum taste to it. Rum? Really? For breakfast? I longed for food that did not remind me of alcohol. But, since there was nothing else to eat, I scarfed down the food.

A golfing commentator played in the background. Whatever happened to watching the Christmas Parade in the morning? Whatever happened to human conversation in general in the morning? My holiday cheer mode slipped another notch. I looked underneath the tree. It sparked a little curiosity, but I was already stung by the lack of holiday interest. I almost didn’t even care if we opened those damn presents or not. I felt terrible for thinking so, but I knew it was true. The holiday meaning was completely gone in the room. 

Breakfast finished and everyone settled down to open some presents. We all made each other’s piles of gifts and one by one we unwrapped. It was hard to pretend happiness. For the first time in my life, I appreciated Christmas for what was beyond the gifts and trinkets in the stockings: I just wanted family time and to be happy with people I loved. Just as quickly as it was put on, the wrapping paper was gone and present time was over. I gathered my items and ran them downstairs. But, not too long after I had done so, the front door opened and my mom and her boyfriend left to golf. So much for Christmas. 

It left a sour effect in my day that I could just not shake off. I knew where I was headed next would uplift my spirits somewhat, but it almost didn’t matter. I had learned a very valuable lesson that day: Christmas was more than just the gifts under the tree, but the value of family and friends, spending time with them. It broke my hear to learn it in such a way, but it had to be done. And it was done.

Later that evening, my mother asked me if I had a good Christmas. It was to her surprise I said “no” in a bold way. She was caught off-guard and deeply upset by it, but I just left it at that and walked away. I longed for the days as a kid where I would excited just to see the tree in the living room or the Christmas lights on the house. I longed for the restless night with my sister, saying “no peanut jokes” and kicking one another until we would shut up to pretend to hear reindeer on the roof. It was a very unmerry Christmas, but at least I learned something from it all.