I am trying to make this the mother of all Christmases.
It's our first Christmas as a married couple, and I am more than a little sentimental about, well, everything humanly possible. I want to give him the perfect gifts. I want gasps of joy bathed in twinkle lights. I want Christmas magic.
This, of course, is not possible. We will be struggling to see everyone we are supposed to spend time with on Christmas: his parents, my 2 sets of parents, my siblings, both of our grandparents, maybe even some aunts and uncles... And with each, I will want to sit and laugh, to make memories, because I am a girl and we love Hallmark movies. I will see my grandparents and be reminded that my time with them is fleeting, and I will struggle to make each moment count. I will insist on helping with dinner, meaningful exchanges, hugs and kisses. I will force a moment. I will laugh too loudly and linger too long. I will continue to do this throughout the week before Christmas, and I will exhaust myself and my loved ones. My Christmas mania will spread through our apartment, and my husband will look forward to the end of the holiday season.
I have seen myself do this before.
I guess my crazy love for Christmas comes from my childhood, when Christmas meant finally having unity in our house. My parents didn't always get along, but on Christmas morning, the camcorder was rolling and our holiday movies reflect a kinder, gentler household. My parents laughed, probably giddy from sleep deprivation and rum cake. The presents weren't just under the tree, but piled up against it. There never seemed to be an end to them. My brother and I played together, lions laid down with lambs, and all was right with the world for 24 hours. Everything in my turbulent life was harmonious.
So yeah, nostalgia gets the best of me, and I replace the reality of Christmas with my whitewashed tinseled version of it. I love my husband, so much that sometimes I am bleary-eyed with joy. I want to give him everything in this world that I can: my love, my time, and yes, presents. I have to sail back down to earth and remember that I am a waitress in a recession, and any gifts I can afford are tiny miracles.
Fortunately for me, tiny miracles are the currency of love.
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