Posted by: morrowsl | December 25, 2020

The Unforgettable Christmas

It is Christmas morning, 2020. On any other Christmas morning, I might write of joy and laughter and children squeeing in delight at what Santa has left for them. But, it is Christmas morning, 2020. And I honestly have no idea how many families are waking up to joy and laughter and squees. Or, sadly, are not.

Here at Remote, aside from the wild birds calling from the trees that the feeders are empty, it is serenely quiet. Oh! How many years did I long for such quiet on a Christmas morning? I even wrote a small piece about waking up on Christmas morning on the farm and the absolute peace I knew I could find there. And yet, I am here. And I have my quiet. And it is, incredibly, such a mixed bag. I’m not sure if that is due to the lack of people awake and shaking around here (one) or the actual remoteness of location (about 11 miles from town) or the fact that it is Christmas Day and we are in the middle of chaos from pandemic and politics and really all anyone wants this morning is to not have to deal with the same thing we’ve all been dealing with since March.

When I decorated this year, it was with my usual love of the season and the remembrances of all the familiar bits and pieces. But it was also hope. Hope that the season would usher in kindness and love and compassion and show the door to cruelty and hate and inhumanity. Mostly, I was hoping those close to me would have a chance to relax and just soak in the goodness of life in spite of the wreck this year has made of it. I don’t know if that happened. I hope so. I am getting texts and pictures of their attempts. I want to believe they are true.

So, here I am, house decorated, ovens warming, birds calling. Gifts are wrapped and tucked under our little tree. Others were delivered last weekend. It will be a beautiful day outside. Chilly, but covered in warm sunshine as is the usual for late December in North Texas. There are still chores to be done, animals to feed. Our dinner will be midday and small. Last evening, it was just Mike and I for the first time ever. When we married, I brought children with me. We added another. And later on, they added their own. Last evening was a totally new experience for us. We wrapped last gifts, did chores, snacked on turkey straight from the smoker, drifted off in front of the tv. Much as I always imagined it would be if ever it was just us on Christmas Eve.

I have no idea what’s coming. We never saw this, last Christmas when we were all together and doing more or less the same things we’d been doing all along. I think it’s a good thing we really can’t see into the future. Even better not to spend too much time in the past. Time marches on they say. Blink and it will all be gone. So my plan is to just live in today. Oh, I’ll browse those seed catalogs and dream of spring and warmer mornings. But for now, because I know there are people whose lives have been devastated and for whom this day is filled with pain and anger and loss and exhaustion, I will just do what this day tells me to do and pray for peace to come to all of us with the passing of absolutely the worst year in my lifetime.

Happy Christmas.


Responses

  1. Merry Christmas to you my friend! May hope and healing be the main focus of the New Year! Sending you hugs and happiness 💜

    • Thank you, Dinah. I hope your Christmas was wonder-filled!


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