It’s a Wonderful (but Weird) Life

I find that Christmases during transitional periods are those which stand out the most.  Those first Christmases when I find myself in a new situation are those that I remember the most perhaps.  My first Christmas away from my parents’ home (and that was my first Christmas in Florida – which compounded the weirdness for sure), my first Christmas with a child, my first Christmas after my divorce, my first Christmas in Massachusetts, and now my first Christmas unemployed and with my son coming back to “visit” over the holiday . . . all landmark Christmases.

This isn’t news, I suppose.  Certainly, I know many people who struggle with the first (and second and so on) Christmas after they lose a parent or significant loved one.

The odd thing to me is that, for some unbeknown reason, I look back on those transitional Christmases with fondness.  I remember fondly the fun in driving around the coastal towns on the Gulf of Mexico looking at the lights and decorations of houses in Florida.  I remember being tickled the first time I saw a house on the water who had two dolphins lit up in blue lights pulling a lighted sled with Santa in it.  And what I love the most about Florida Christmases is when people do a really good job of lighting the palm trees.

My first Christmas with my son, as a parent, was especially memorable because it prompted my son’s very first word.  I put him to bed and went to work decorating the Christmas tree.  The next morning when he woke up – still fairly dark outside – I took him to the living room and lit the tree and he stood there (with his little diaper butt) and looked at it with all the wonder of a 15-month-old baby and said one word:  “Wow”.  I needed nothing else the rest of that holiday season.

My first Christmas after my divorce was decidedly different, but I was determined to make it okay and I’m proud that I did.  I had no family nearby and Spencer’s dad had a fairly large family nearby.  He and I agreed that we do Christmas morning at my house, early, and then after the ceremonial opening of the gifts, Spencer would go with his dad so he could have Christmas day with a big family gathering.  That left me alone.  I had been working a second job at a local movie theater and I volunteered to work that day.  You’d be surprised how many people go to the movies on Christmas day.  I went to work, selling tickets, determined to look each person in the eye and send good Christmas energy to each and every one of them – and it worked!  Every single person was pleasant (at the least) and positively joyful (at the most)!  It was absolutely exhilarating.  When my shift ended, I went home and heated up my little ham steak and some instant mashed potatoes (and probably some orange mac n’ cheese – cuz that’s just big-time comfort food for me) and popped into the VCR (those are those big machines that you put big plastic boxes into and movies play!) my all-time favorite movie, It’s a Wonderful Life.  I had a glass of wine and sunk into a hot bubble bath and tried to revel in my own little Christmas.  I did that for two or three years while I was a single mom and I have to say that I remember them fondly.

My first Christmas here on the Cape was sort of stressful.  New people, new family, new husband, new house . . .  Marty was so thankful to have a new family of his own that I can’t ever forget his emotional response to that holiday season.  It was the first of many (13 now) Cape Cod Christmases and they’ve been really good.  Focus on Spencer for the most part and, more recently, shared with my parents being able to join us, so I sort of feel a full circle sort of Christmas thing.  Growing up, Christmas was HUGE.  I mean, really.  H-U-G-E.  Best time of the year, hands down.  Joy, fun, happy.  Good stuff.  I’m so thankful to have my parents back in my Christmases now.

This year is a bit weird and I’m trying to remember to adjust and appreciate what it brings.  It’s one of those more stressful holiday seasons – what with the economy being so crappy – and it is definitely a transitional Christmas.  You see, my son is no longer inclined to stand in front of the tree and say, “Wow”.  He’s all grown now.  He’s making his own choices and decisions.  He’s out there, in the world, beginning to find his own way.  He’s a great kid.  No.  He’s a great young man.  He makes me laugh (like, really hard, from the gut) all the time.  He’s doing well.  He’s happy and he’s growing and he’s really flourishing in his new environment.  He’s on a really good path.

And, here’s the thing.  What more could a parent ask for?  Knowing your only child is in the right place, doing the right thing, feeling “right” in the world is satisfaction wrapped up in a pretty package with a bow on top.

Thank you, Santa, for what you remind me to remember every year.