(written Christmas Day)
Christmas morning. 5:58 AM.
It is unseasonably warm and very quiet outside. The pavement is damp, probably from leaching groundwater, and there's no movement outside our large picture window in front of our dining room, where I stood and looked out at the world. Not a breeze, no cars driving by, just pure peace.
I'm sure there are many other mornings where this is the case as well, but they don't feel the same as Christmas morning does.
It is not unusual for me to be awake very early on Christmas morning, whether I want to be or not; this is part of who I am, and I can count on maybe one hand the number of times I can recall not being awake this early on Christmas morning, from childhood to now.
Over the past several years, though, I have begun to slowly realize that this holiday is less and less something for me every year, and more for the generation after me. As a child, everything revolved around Christmas; it was the best day of the year, with lots of food and presents and endless hours of TV. I would look forward to it for weeks on end, and I remember being so incredibly excited for it that I couldn't stand the anticipation.
But, as an adult, I feel more adult-y and removed from it more by the year. This morning, as I looked out the window, I felt my age. I looked down at my ratty bathrobe, the tattoo on my arm, and ran my fingers through the gray in my beard, of which there is a lot. I am slowly becoming Santa Claus. Which is, I think, the way it's supposed to be -- the older hand down the reins (no pun intended) to the younger generation, the same as it has been for many generations before my own.
I feed the cats, go to the bathroom, and return upstairs to take allergy pills and prepare for the day. I rub some Hustle Butter onto my tattoo. The Weather Channel tells me it's supposed to be sixty degrees today, so I mentally prepare the outfit I'll be wearing and make a note to grab the clothing out of the closet once Daisy is awake -- she was up late, really late, doing gift-wrapping and taking care of other last-minute Christmas stuff, and deserves to sleep as long as she can.
Sitting at my desk typing this, I hear the world begin waking up outside my open window -- cars going by on the street, the occasional honk of a horn or distant police/ambulance siren -- the beginnings of Christmas morning for the rest of Omaha.
Behind me, against the wall next to my door, is the pile of presents I wrapped a few days ago -- both for Daisy as well as our nephews, family, and parents. I am blessed to be married to Daisy, married into such a wonderful, caring, loving family. It is something I've never taken for granted, because there have been many years of my life where this wasn't the case, where I woke up alone or in a relative's/significant other's relative's house (or, occasionally while traveling, a hotel) on Christmas morning and didn't necessarily feel the peace and blessings I feel this morning. My life is a good life. I've made it a good life with what I've been given and what I've made of it. I could've just as easily become a withdrawn, morose, miserable person forever, locking myself away in a rundown rented house or apartment, smoking and drinking my life away. There were times where I feared that is all I would ever be.
But I didn't. I opened my heart, I opened my life to this wonderful woman and this wonderful family, and it is they who have made me whole. I am a better person for it and because of them, and so my goal at Christmas is to do everything for them that I can. If I don't, I feel like I've let them down.
***
The Christmas Eve service at church yesterday was one of the strangest, briefest affairs I've ever been part of.
Daisy and I confirmed the time with the parents (4pm) and arrived at the church around 3:50 to find the parking lot about 85% full and neither the parents nor the rest of the family in sight.
"Are you here yet?" Daisy texted the parents.
Mama responded with "Almost."
"It's fine, babe," I said. "They'll get here, there's handicapped parking, it'll be fine."
"I wonder if they're just taking the one car," Daisy said.
"There are eight of them, there's no way they're fitting all eight of them into [sister's] SUV."
Mind you, they've fit all of us and all four boys into said SUV before, but Mama has a walker and isn't as limber as Daisy and I are.
We saw the family pull in a few minutes later; no sign of the parents.
We then receive a text message from Mama: "we're sitting in the church."
"Would've been nice to know that," I said, slightly annoyed. It quickly passed. Everyone is fighting their own battles, and it was a particularly hard day for Daisy's mother to get out and about, as she is slowly getting sick.
We came through the door as two of the last few people coming in, and were handed our "candles" -- battery-powered tealights -- and programs.
"Oooh, electronic ones this year," I said to the pastor, grinning.
"Yeah," he said, smiling widely and obviously recognizing me and Daisy from previous years. "It's much easier. How are you? It's good to see you! I love that tattoo!"
That's just the environment that church creates. It is also part of why, even as someone with no religion, I enjoy going to the service. You don't have to have religion to be a good person or feel welcomed by a community, and that's part of why I'm so excited (yes, excited) every year to participate. None of these people know I'm an atheist, and I'm not sure any of them would really care if they did know.
It was 4:01 PM. Everyone was inside and sitting in the back row pew of the church, taking up the entire pew. Daisy and I sat in an empty spot on the opposite side of the aisle.
At 4:19 PM, after a few hymns (which the gathered congregation sang only half-assedly...with the exception of my brother-in-law, who belted it out like he was an opera performer) and a little video/children's ceremony, the service was over and we were dismissed.
I blinked a few times.
"That was the shortest Christmas Eve service we've ever been to here," I said to my brother-in-law, who seemed sort of surprised as well. "Usually it's about an hour, they have a few speakers, last year they told us about this multi-ethnicity, multi-religion school they were putting together in Jerusalem, etc." I was stunned.
"It's the kids' service," Daisy said, shrugging. "It's generally shorter."
While that may be true, we've never been in and out of there in less than twenty minutes before.
We got a few family photos taken by some of the kinder members of the congregation who offered to take them for us, and then made our way back to the house for snacks/dinner, which was a very...hectic and stressful affair, to say the least.
Everyone's rundown and burnt out. Mama is getting sick. Daisy has been running almost nonstop for days trying to get everything situated and taken care of, and is exhausted. Dad is as tired and worn down by four boys being in the house as he normally is, and our sister and brother-in-law are really tired, you can see it in their eyes and their slow movements -- and are both short-tempered at this point. Me? I had been fighting off allergy attacks because of the really warm weather and had been awake since 4AM. So, while I wasn't punchy or anything like that, I wasn't feeling at my best myself.
We finally came home around 8PM, as the boys were readying for bed and the family was winding down, and within two hours I was passed out in my chair. I got up around 12:30 or so (while I could still hear Daisy wrapping presents downstairs) and moved to the bed, where I slept until after 5AM. I wouldn't find out until after I woke up that she'd not gone to sleep until after 3, as she'd messaged the parents in our group chat to let her know when everyone was up.
When Mama responded at 6:56 saying she was up, I knew the day had already begun and she'd probably been up for some time. I told her that I'd let Daisy sleep for a bit and then get her up and give a timeframe of when we'd be over. Kids are kids, they're not gonna wait for presents any longer than they have to, and I can't say I blame them -- I was the same way when I was their age. Daisy and I could put aside our own festivities and presents for each other until the evening; as I mentioned above, Christmas is all about the kids.
So that's our plans for the day, folks...let's see how they pan out.
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