So it’s Christmas time and I’ve given into going home for the holidays. I’d really rather not. I’d rather spend a week on the slopes of Colorado with Joker, but since my lottery ticket wasn’t a winner last night (and Joker is out of the country) I’m going home. My mother is paying a fortune for my ticket (since I waited to the last minute), anything to have her baby home. HA.
I’ve been kinda a Scrooge about the holidays. Think I just long for the old school Christmas. When I was little I loved the holidays. There were 8 kids in our family; we had a small house and not a lot of money. But those were some of the best days of my life. My older brothers and sisters would be home from college and mom would cook like she was feeding a brigade. The house was packed with people, so noisy and hotter than blazes with the kitchen appliances running 24/7.
Back then we ate at the table, always. Every year mom would get something to go with her gazillion piece Christmas table setting. We’d have breakfast on those fancy plates with Christmas trees painted on them, the same tree was on the glasses and the gravy boat, butter tray, you get the point. After we ate mom would wash (this was way before we got a dishwasher) everything put it back on the table and then do it all again for dinner. I miss sittin at that table saying grace, passing plates around, people laughing and dishes clinking.
In those days kids didn’t get $300.00 game systems (at least not in my house) you got socks and underwear. We always got a giant peppermint stick, (that inevitably turned into a sticky mess) and the Santa storybook filled with lifesavers, love that! Then you got your one super toy. My favorite was a remote controlled car. I wanted that thing so bad, and got it. I drove that thing till the wheels came off.
I guess it’s not that I hate Christmas now, I just long for the days when it meant more. You know less about stuff and more about being together.
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