 |
|
December
25, 2005. The sleep I slept over Christmas Eve was the sleep of the dead. Nothing short of amazing, that I was able to drop off into oblivion on that old pull-out couch in the brown room at the end of the second-floor hallway in my mom's house. Two squashy pillows were semi-able to be beaten into submission, but mostly I ended up squashing and restraining them into something approaching what I do with my down pillows at home. There was no moon coming through the high window last night, but I am not sure I would have noticed, anyway. My tights and blouse and skirt were laid over the chair next to me, my new silver peace crane necklace still around my neck, my shoes lined up neatly under the chair, my hair rumply and smelling of mint and sweetness, my mind on absolutely nothing. The house was quiet and warm, and the Christmas Eve celebrations were fairly free of family strife, or 'moments.' My two eldest nephews hung with me a lot, which cracked me up. Every time I look at them I think of Moreland, West Virginia, and I think of how I feel I've barely changed (yet, my life is so different. how does that work?) since I took that picture in Jamaica, but they've gotten so much older. Paul wants to convert me into a football fan, wants more than anything to get me to Soldier Field with a beer in my hand, witnessing his shirtless screaming fannish doofy behavior, and somehow loving it. Alex's hair is even longer than it's ever been, continuing in his Britpop tradition, but gaining more of a John Lennon aspect. There are many times Alex and I nod at each other and have an understanding, without having to say a thing. At one point Renee turned to me and in her giddy, my-life-rocks! sort of way, she gushed, "We have come such a long way!" It's true. I remember showing up to these things when my mom and her husband first started dating -- actually, no. My brother and I weren't even included in these festivities right away, but when we were, we were treated to this chaotic assemblage of people who had traditions and spending activities far beyond anything we've ever experienced as young kids, and my family wasn't exactly the poorest, you know, before my parents divorced. We were quite comfortable - and yet I was completely unprepared for the sheer amount of wrapping paper and tulle and sly grins over plane tickets and expensive pieces of jewelry and then the shrieking and screaming of the kids as their mountains of toys got higher and higher ... ... Heh. That hasn't really changed, but somehow I've become inured to it. It's become something I just process as 'part of being in this family.' I now participate in the (still too-expensive) grab bag, and this year Renee got me again, and did a great job (as usual). I now have plenty of The Story to listen to, Bone to read, and Karaoke to look forward to. We stuffed ourselves silly on pierogis and fish and sauerkraut and pinot grigio and holiday cookies and coffee. I got to talk to Tyler on the phone, and his wife. I got to sleep on the rickety pull-out bed in the brown room at the end of the second-floor hallway. This morning was breakfast - corned beef hash, eggs, coffee. And then a trek outside into the damp for the last remaining pint of eggnog in the great Chicagoland area, since the adults drank it all up last night, and then to visit Aunt Sandy's grave at St. Adalbert's - the foundation for the family stone is there, spraypainted with the last name. A wreath on a stand stood there, with a small, wrapped present underneath. The ground was slightly swampy with melted snow, except directly under the nearby fir trees, which left a fragrant and beautiful needley ground cover. We soaked our shoes and paid our respects, and then mom brought me home where I've been feeling lonely and quiet ever since. go
back to the index |