I have been quite sick this past week, and something in the fistful of pills I’ve been taking is causing me to have nightmares. Not the stabbing scarey type but, well, last night was the sad, nostalgic kind that woke me in tears.
When did I come to hate Christmas? Once upon a time, my Dad would wait until us five kids were all nestled and snug in our beds, to turn our living room into a Christmas wonderland. He stayed up all night, putting up the tree, assembling bicycles, and stuffing the stockings. Wide-eyed, we truly believed that Santa had come.
I remember in high school, turning out the lights in our library, (I use the term loosely) and bathing in the glow of blue lights reflecting off the tinsel, and listening to Nat King Cole, Johnny Mathis and Andy Williams. Thank you (NOT) Ghost of Christmas past for stirring up long forgotten memories.
As our own children grew, the scene changed. I can see us in the kitchen, laughing, cooking and recreating my favorite holiday treats, dates stuffed with walnuts and rolled in powered sugar, celery stuffed with cream cheese. I guess we did a lot of stuffing, mostly our faces.
Over time I began to resent the shopping, wrapping and hunting for the perfect gift. The lines at stores, endless traffic, jammed parking lots, and general over consumption. I declared, “no more gift giving!” I’d had enough.
Moving to Mexico definitely lifted the stress, but I’m afraid the trees, music and holiday everything have crept in even here. My mother-in-law usually wants gifts and for us to put up her tiny plastic tree. This year we’ve all been sick and she doesn’t even care about that.
So there are no decorations, music or signs of Christmas at all. For the most part, I’m fine with it, but I wish the Ghost would leave me alone!
And in the words of Tiny Tim, “God bless us everyone.”
DOS TORTAS
the adventures of dos tortas 
Share Your Thoughts