adulting on christmas

I have this distinct memory of Christmas as a kid...riding in a car for hours to get to Granny's house, of stepping out onto that smooth concrete in the carport that the cousins and I would be skating on later, seeing Granny open up her screen door and leaning out a little, waiting for us to come inside. I remember her hugs, and the smell of stale cigarettes as I walk into her kitchen. I remember the silver tinsel on the Christmas tree, most of which floated to the floor or on top of the presents crowded under the tree. I remember making a pallet on the living room floor to sleep on since the adults got to have the bedrooms. I remember my brother and cousin stealthily opening up their presents Christmas Eve to see what they got, then carefully taping them back up so no one would notice. I remember Christmas morning. I remember the anticipation and the excitement and the joy.

Honestly, I can't really remember the presents I opened (except for that one time I got a hat with a huge sunflower on the front and my cousin Brook got a similar one, plus matching overalls. Those kinds of things are hard to forget...) but I do remember all the feelings. And I miss those. And the people. I miss them too.

Adulting at Christmas is hard. I've heard it gets better when you have kids, and you sort of get to relive that Christmas magic through them, but I'm not there yet. I'm not a kid and have no kids. I'm an adult. Who just ate a double quarter pounder from McDonalds for dinner on Christmas Eve. (And I still can't decide if that's the saddest thing I've ever heard, or if the sadder thing is the fact that someone was working the drive through window at McDonalds on Christmas Eve.)

Is anyone else with me on this? I feel kind of guilty saying this out loud, since Christmas is really about the birth of the Savior of mankind and all that, but the struggle is real ya'll. What is it about this time of year that makes me dislike being an adult?! It's like the best part of being a kid was Christmas-time, and the best part of Christmas-time is being a kid.

Maybe it's just the unholy amount of saturated fats I just consumed, but I'm a little sad now.Will it ever be the way it was? Can it? Should it? And is it all in my head? Did my parents feel then the same way I do now? Will we continue to miss the gift we never knew we had?!

Yeah I really don't know the answers to those questions, but I do know I get to go to my parents' house tomorrow morning, and I will probably show up in my pj's (if only I still had a yellow onesie...), and mom will make breakfast, and the coffee snob in me will be grateful that my parents are coffee snobs too.

I have many things to be grateful for: a beautiful, loving family, a cute puppy dog, a Creator of the universe who sent his only son to die for me, to name a few. I know that tomorrow can be whatever I make of it, and more than likely it will be a good day. Sometimes I just miss the stale cigarettes and silver tinsel, you know?

Anyway, Merry Christmas. Ya filthy animals. ;)


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