What is it about Christmas Day that leaves you in a
reflective, melancholy mood? Is it
that you have eaten too much? Drank too much? That the piles of discarded
wrapping paper leave you guilt ridden and remind you of your wastefulness? That
no matter how hard you have tried in the end you were still sucked into the commercial
nature of the “Christmas”? What is it about the days following Christmas that
leaves you empty, depleted, done? And more importantly, why do we always feel compelled
to do it all again the following year?
This year, as I pack up our Christmas tree and put away the
decorations that we have been collecting over the last 30 years, I have made a
decision. And it may not be a popular one with my family.
In the spirit of the Year of Chicken, it is time to change “Christmas”.
We all had fun this year. We all ate well. Drank well. Received
our presents. Smiled. Laughed. And we were all truly merry. But when I got to the
end of it all I was empty. There was nothing left. There are a number of
reasons for this. The ridiculous amount of preparation that went into this one
day. A year in a job that has all but sucked me dry, physically, emotionally
and mentally. The knowledge that our only child is about to make a journey that
will change all of our lives, forever. But possibly the one thing that has left me the most heart sick was the memory of Christmas last year. A Christmas spent in New York.
Our New York Christmas. A Christmas with no obligations,
no schedules, no expectations, no preconceived traditions. Before Christmas last year Christmas for me has been full of
family duty, organisation, weeks, sometimes months, of preparation and
commitments. All done happily, with joy and love. It was my present to my
family and friends. To do whatever I could to help provide a Christmas we all deserved and
wanted.
But this year, as the hubbub of day whirled and swirled
around me, I painted a smile on my face and soldiered on through the day, I couldn't help going back to last year.
A Christmas morning spent in a hotel room. The
breakfast picnic on the bed, supplied by room service. The lunch of modern
French cuisine in a Midtown New York restaurant. The walk around Bryant Park drinking
hot cider, watching the ice skaters and breathing in the frozen air. The trip
to the top of the Rockefeller Centre to see New York at night. The crush of the streets as people went on their way through the city, like it wasn't even Christmas Day. The hot chocolate and the movie in bed to finish the day.
A Christmas with no obligations, no schedules, no expectations, no preconceived traditions. It was so different. But it felt so right.
So as I pack up the tree I know it well most
likely be for the last time. I know I won't be putting it up again next year. Already I am thinking of how I can change "Christmas". How next Christmas can be, has to be different. I can never go back to what Christmas was. I know that now.
What next Christmas will look like, I’m not
entirely sure. But what I do know is that I will lean in, take a breath and …
No comments:
Post a Comment