It is pretty cool looking, though.
Christmas didn't come early in the "physical" sense. Usually by this time of the year, my family has the tree all set-up. We've put our little electric candles in all of our front windows. We've hung the large ornaments outside among various tress along our driveway. Right now, for the most part, our house looks just like it does during the rest of the year - sans the front door wreath, the giant Santa face on the mantel, and the absurd number of cardboard boxes that have accumulated in the foyer. Since Mom broke her leg, Christmas has come in the form of fredflare.com, Restoration Hardware, Bags Unlmtd., and other websites - online shopping has, yet again, proven to be the next greatest miracle since Jesus Christ.
I used to be a sucker for the surprise of Christmas morning (okay, yeah, every child is...blah blah blah cliché, KT, blah blah blah). I sometimes asked for the occasional American Girl doll, or iPod, or strange movie/book. I always looked forward, though, to the surprises my parents would leave on the stairs. These were usually unwrapped gifts that were cleverly arranged in little piles along the bottom five steps - socks, keychains, 20 questions games, etc. Quirky little things. And they were always the best gifts. They were things I never thought of asking for, but they were always things that I would end up using more than the things I had actually put on my "list". Now, anyone who knows me knows that my memory pretty much sucks. This is another way to gauge how important/life-changing something is for me - if I am able to remember the age I was when it happened.
I received a record player and my first Simon & Garfunkel vinyl when I was eleven years old. I literally danced to "Mrs. Robinson" all of Christmas day.
I never even expected to receive something as strange as a record player when I was eleven, though. Over the years, I came to love and trust my parents even more in their ability to pick out things I would enjoy. A "list" became a foreign concept to me. When my mom asked me what I wanted this year, I simply replied "Surprise me. Oh, and new jeans" (I managed to bust a nice, large 7-inch tear along the back left pocket of my TRs while pop, lock, and dropping).
But this year, the surprise factor has faded a little. When I came home from college last Sunday, I arrived before my parents. I walked into the kitchen only to find 83475978 cardboard boxes and as I moved them all to the front hallway, I saw the return labels of each and every one. I knew that some of these boxes contained the unwrapped gifts my parents would put on the stairs in a few weeks - these were the surprises I got all excited about. Seeing the places they came from didn't make me quite as curious to what they were. Oddly enough, it made me even more thankful. My mom broke her fibula back in October and hasn't been able to walk since. Yet, here she is, making this huge and admirable effort to continue on with Christmas just like it has been in the past.
So here comes the sappy, heartfelt, "I finally understand the true meaning of Christmas" part. Are you prepared? Kleenex ready in hand? Good.
I guess Mom still managed to surprise me this year. No, there's no Christmas tree covered with Hallmark ornaments in the front hall and honestly, it couldn't physically feel less like "Christmastime" in this household. But right now, that Christmas-y red and green feeling doesn't matter so much to me. Knowing that my mom, with her circumstances, has tried so hard these last few weeks between Thanksgiving and winter break to create a Christmas just like any other honestly means more to me than any UO sweater or cell phone case. She has gone out of her way to keep calm, and carry on.
Mom - you're the best. And as you graduate to crutches this week, I'm here to walk with you. Even if it takes you 10x as long to get from the kitchen to the sofa in the family room, I will slow my pace to match yours. YOU = THE SPIRIT OF CHRISTMAS.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Best wishes to all for a safe and happy holiday.
* cue Silver Bells *
