Christmas at my house is about spending all day together, something that seems to rarely happen on ordinary days now that we're all going in different directions. We have Christmas dinner on Christmas Eve so that we don't have to cook, and make up our breakfast casseroles the night before so we can just pop them in the oven. This year Mom and I did most of the cooking together, and I learned how to make from-scratch rolls. They are to die for, I'm just saying. So, it's about spending all day together, and also eating really, really well. We're a family of foodies, what can I say?
This year had a bittersweet tone to it- it was lovely to have my brother home with us, though I know he was sorely missing his girlfriend, who is out of town with her own family. The thing is, this is the last year where things will be like they've always been. My brother is falling in love, likely the really permanent kind, and I'm going to be moving to Washington for school, more likely than not. So, when I opened up my stocking stuffer and saw that I received a spatula I looked at my mom, and, the emotional women that we are, we both started crying. My brother, bewildered but witty as always, said, "you guys must really love pancakes..."
The spatula and crochet reference book with pictures (because my mom knows I will need picture guidance in Seattle when I get stuck on a new pattern and she can't demonstrate how to fix it) are just this sort of unspoken understanding between my mom and I of the changes that will be coming. It makes me get a little choked up just thinking about it. As much as I want to travel and have adventures, there's a familiarity and comfort of living at home, of knowing that at the end of my adventure, I'm coming back to the house I grew up in. It's hard to think about it being any different than it's always been, even though I'm excited for the chance to live in a different place. I think big change, even when it's really, truly good change, like my brother falling in love, or me going to school, can cause a kind of emotional rawness. Not bad feelings, necessarily, but overwhelmingly intense. Bittersweet, like I said, beautiful and lovely and a little bit achy.
My family has this tradition of getting very creative with our wrapping. There's usually one special gift for each person that has been wrapped extra special- the gift will be inside of some clever construction, one year my dad got something inside the Starship Enterprise. Last year, my brother hid a passport case inside the British Isles made out of green celllophane and pop-ups of Big Ben and other famous places. This year, I was a little sad because I thought, since my brother, who does the majority of that stuff now, was so busy, that there would be no specially wrapped presents. But he did one better, he wrote a little scavenger hunt puzzle for me, and it was brilliant. I had to search for myself in Wikipedia, and then piece together the answer from the clues given. It was the best gift, even better than my actual present (which was XBOX Live, by the way, woot!).
It's been a beautiful Christmas, and I'm so thankful for my family. I've been blessed with people who love me and don't care if I cry at spatulas and scavenger hunts, what more can you ask for?
Merry Christmas!
No comments:
Post a Comment