Christmas Lingering This Year
/The Boston Herald
There are 12 days of Christmas, Father Coen says every year.
And every year I sit in church and hear the words and dismiss them, certain that while in theory this may be true, in fact if everything isn't done by Christmas Day, the season will be ruined.
This year, everything wasn't done. I hardly did any shopping, never bought even one stocking stuffer, never sent Christmas cards or made a gingerbread house or did any of the extra things I have always believed were essential to the holiday. Christmas morning dawned and I was still days away from being prepared.
And you know what? It didn't matter. Christmas came, and it was wonderful and still is because while today may be the third day of a new year, it is the ninth day of Christmas. And while in years passed, I would have already ushered Christmas out of my house, taking down the tree and packing away all the decorations, this year I am sitting back and enjoying its brief visit.
The tree is dry but still decorated, and at night and early in the morning, I plug in the lights it looks nice. The Christmas books are still on the coffee table so I am still reading some of my favorite stories. It doesn't matter that I'm doing this a few days after Christmas instead of a few days before. It doesn't matter that I did not send Christmas cards. For the first time ever, I haven't let all that I didn't do ruin the season for me.
The youngest came home from college the Wednesday before Christmas and the season began with her arrival. Her grandmother survived surgery that day. It was a turning point. The oldest flew home a few days later.
Christmas Eve, we were together, my family, my father and Louise, Caryn and John and Kerry and Sarah and Chris, and it didn't matter that there weren't gifts under the tree for everyone. It didn't matter that there were more store bought cookies than homemade. Everyone was safe. We talked and laughed and reminisced and were quietly grateful for all we had.
On Christmas morning, Jeannie and her children arrived from New York. She comes every year because her husband works on Christmas Day. But this year, she was scheduled to work, too, so her presence, though always special, was even more so. Three of her children stayed the whole week, filling the house with little kid sounds. "Beverly, will you read this to me? Lauren, will you tell me a story?” There were Disney movies on the VCR and pretend people in the doll house and pancakes with chocolate chips every day and endless games of Crazy Eights and Fish.
We rolled pennies and cashed them in at the bank, and then we returned 331 bottles and it was fun, not a chore. And when we were finished we had $66, $22 each, Tabitha figured, which we then took to South Shore Plaza to spend.
It might have been a million dollars, it made them so happy. Shilo bought a talking telephone at K-Bee Toys, which she played so much that we had to replace the batteries the next day. Xena chose a dark-haired Barbie doll. Tabitha, who is 11 and on the cusp of adolescence, shunned the toy store and headed straight to Record Town.
People thought they were my kids and at first, I said, "No, no. They're my cousins." But after a while, when someone said how sweet they were and how well-behaved, I just smiled and said, "Thank you.”
I liked being the mother of young children again.
We saw "Jumanji" and ate at Burger King and got ice cream at Brigham's and Christmas went on and on. Then last weekend I drove them home, certain that now Christmas was indeed over.
But it isn't. It's here still. Like the scent of pine, it lingers.
It was a good Christmas and will continue to be a good Christmas for three more days.
