The
night before we took down the tree, I noticed something I always forget until
the night of the day we put up the tree: I love how the twinkle lights are
reflected in Ter’s wineglass. This year, the inverted effect also reflected the
tapsalteerie nature of Christmas 2018 ... or of 2018 in general. As my office
roomie bleakly observed in mid-December, “2018 can go f*** itself.”
Amen,
sister.
Right
up to December twenty-first, real life inflicted itself on the festivities. Physical
challenges, work pressure, car repairs, and the cyclical nature of grief
conspired to foil my seasonal joy—but we got ’er done in spite of the
obstacles.
Don’t we always?
Think
about it. Life doesn’t stop because it’s Christmas. It doesn’t stop for
vacation, either. I once asked my boss if I could have my time back because my
February leave had sucked. Alas, my request was denied. Since then, I have been
aware of the contrast in supposedly good times, Christmas being the most
obvious target for the simple reason that it demands more energy than a summer
holiday. When you’re already exhausted, the smallest hiccup can be tectonic in
result.
Conversely,
this past Christmas was also brighter, more peaceful and somehow happier than
previous ones. I thought frequently of Mum, but the memories of Christmases
with her made up for the first one without her. As for the big tree ... I did
the heavy lifting since Ter was out of commission, but it felt like more of a
team effort once Bart the bear was in place next to the star. Ups and downs
came fast and furious throughout the season, but upside down or right side up,
it was consistently beautiful. I couldn’t have imagined better.
On to
2019!
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