Christmas day has always been a thing for me. It’s a thing for everyone of course, but… well, it’s my blog.
I grew up coveting Christmas. As a kid it was the accoutrements– the trees, the decorations, the fantasy of Santa Claus and of a Norman Rockwell family.
I have had trees as an adult. I have even had Christmases. Now that’s not what I covet.
First, to be clear, I am covered. This single Jewish woman is not lacking in invitations. I have attended the same awesome Christmas Eve party/rock jam for several years now, and this evening I am off to a wonderful Christmas dinner. Some years I’ve done the Chinese-food-and-a-movie thing with family. It’s always a great day.
What I am present to, as something that feels missing, is Christmas morning. I am acutely aware that out there it is so quiet. A stillness across our culture that is unlike any other day. Go out and you might not find an open gas station or a cup of coffee. And inside so many of the homes, families are filled with joy– presents and brunch and being together with an abandon mostly reserved for Christmas morning.
No, it’s not like that in everyone’s house. And of course I’m not even talking about homeless people, or the countless others who don’t have family, don’t partake– but there is a lot of awesomeness that comes with Christmas morning, and Facebook has made it even more apparent– the gifts and the excitement and the pajamas, a stream of updates about this. And the one that I think inspired this post, from a lovely young man I know–
New York to Chicago to Flint. A long morning of travel, but worth it for Christmas with the family. Bam. — at American Airlines Terminal – LaGuardia Airport.
That’s intense. I love my family and our holidays, but there is nothing comparable to Christmas morning. Passover isn’t the same without a single one of us, but it doesn’t take the same hit either, if someone isn’t there.
I’m not sad. This isn’t bringing me down. I got to sleep in, which rocks. Well until Sweet Potato annoyed me out of bed, but not for gifts, just for food, like every morning.
I’ve always said I don’t know who I’ll marry– I’d love a Jewish man for those commonalities, but I’d love a hippie/pagan for those– all the categories I’ve been a part of– any might be nice, and ultimately none of them matter. I will be surprised by who I fall in love with, just because the discovery of the love and the human who is at the source of it will be a surprise itself. But what I saw this morning is, I wouldn’t mind a man who has a Christmas morning tradition. I’ll happily come along for that ride.
And then what I saw, is that waking up on Christmas morning with my husband will be my Christmas morning tradition, whatever else comes with that. And I do think that’s the “what’s missing”. And I think seeing that is a very good thing. I know where to go to work now.