Maybe This Christmas
Written last December 2020
Are you setting up the Christmas tree in the middle of the room?
Did you leave the lights in the attic, dusting away?
Have you cleaned your Christmas stockings, imagining the gifts you’ll put inside?
Were you listening to the Christmas songs, humming to Mariah Carey and Jose Mari Chan?
Christmas isn’t the same this year.
The hassle and craze of Christmas has left us.
Holiday seasons became more of an appointment we have to get ready for. Christmas turned into a requirement to tick off the to-do list, and another party we have to show up and get to.
After years of messages of “Christmas isn’t about the presents, it’s about the people you spend time with!,” It finally sinks in with us.
Christmas isn’t about the presents. It’s about the people you spend time with.
Maybe this year, we won’t be dreading the office Christmas party, but long for the cringe-y Christmas sweaters and the cliche holiday themes we put up with. We’ll miss the after-work parties and the stories we share and spend life with.
Maybe this time, we won’t be stalling for the family reunions and the games we are oh-so-forced to take part in. We won’t roll our eyes as the kids scream and run around, with sugar pumping up their energy and us dodging them as we bring food to the table. We won’t fake a smile as our aunts ask us the dreaded annual holiday statements:
“Where is your boyfriend?”
“When will you get married?”
“When will you have kids?”
“You got so fat!” and the ironic, “You need to eat this!” sentence after.
Maybe this week, we won’t be listening half-heartedly to the messages pointing out the Nativity Story is what Christmas is about. We won’t be mouthing the Christmas hymns we sing yearly during December at church. We won’t tune out the songs we hear each time Thanksgiving passes and snow falls to the ground.
Maybe this holiday, we’ll stay at home, cuddled with our warm blankets and the fire staring in front of us. We’ll sip on our hot chocolates and reminisce the thought of joking and drinking around with our coworkers. We’ll recall the nights we drank way too much champagne — thankful they set the party on a Friday night.
Maybe this season, we’ll spend our time with our loved ones, making chocolate chip cookies and eggnogs as we celebrate the holiday. We’ll recall our relatives and ponder how they are when the tornado of the year is ending. Maybe we’ll laugh as we remember the kid who bumped into a glass window and still came out beaming. Maybe we’ll smile as we sip our drinks on the games we grudgingly took part in and wonder if we can try to do it this year, but just us.
Maybe this Christmas, we’ll hear the story of the birth of the Christ-child in a new light. We’ll listen to Christmas songs on repeat for days. We’ll hum along the hymns each time the -ber months pass. We’ll remember the miraculous narrative on how a cold, dark night, a family had a son in a manger, with the stars twinkling above them. A night when Hope was born.
This Christmas, we’ll forget the noise. We’ll forget the festivities and the parties and the drinks and the games. This Christmas, we’ll long for the company. We’ll cherish the silent smiles of the people we’re with as we cook our favorite desserts, and pray, we can all see each other soon.
This Christmas, we’ll be sharing hot chocolate, drinking eggnogs, putting up Christmas trees, dancing to Christmas songs, and lighting up the room with the ones worth spending Christmas with.
This Christmas, we’ll have a dark, lonely night. With the stars twinkling above us, and the spirit of Christmas giving us hope and light, knowing within, that everything will be all right.
This time, we’ll remember what Christmas is all about.
This year, Christmas will be different.
But maybe this Christmas is exactly what we need.
