It’s time. Time to hurry up and get it all done. Wrap the presents. Decorate the tree. Attend the Christmas parties. Be with family and loved ones. Eat, drink and be merry. Deck the halls, sing carols and hang wreaths all over the place. Drink eggnog.
And, most importantly (or not) read Treena’s column.
Okay, the last item can, and probably will, be scratched off the Christmas to do list and the newspaper itself relegated to the recycle box so as to leave more room important stuff like presents and butter tarts.
But for those of you who actually chose to ignore the Christmas clock ticking away the minutes and hours and, indeed, the last few shopping days before Christmas and read my humble attempts at writing, thank you.
Thank you for reading my column all year. For laughing. For crying. For muttering, but not too loudly, about grammatical errors or spelling mistakes that somehow slipped by human eyes and made it into the print media where it will remain forever and ever, a humble reminder of my inadequacies.
And thank you for letting me take this time to wish you all the very best of the season however that looks for you.
And I truly do wish everyone, whether they’ve been naughty or nice, or a little bit of both, have the joy of having at least a few moments of Christmas card perfection dropped into the imperfection of the holiday season.
It is, of course, those moments that can’t be bought, which would, sometimes no doubt, make them a whole lot easier to attain.
It is kind of weird that I, at least, struggle over Christmas lists and agonize over what to get my children, my grandchildren and lots of other people, when the unwrapped gifts always end up being the best presents, anyway.
I know this in my head, but the other night here I am laying in my bed thinking, thinking, thinking, my thoughts unfinished and scattered like a whole bunch of unwrapped presents. “Well, we got Emilie the pedicure thing, and Jackson the Lego. I can’t believe his dad is getting him a punching bag, that was my idea. MY IDEA. Anyway, there is only Kallie and Ben and Dylan left and, oh, yes, what about the neighbors, who shovel the walk and the Chinese Christmas thing and what about my sisters? Yikes, I need to sleep.
And, so I fall asleep and am immediately visited by the spirit of Christmas past. Who knew?
I see a Charlie Brown Christmas tree and burned butter tarts.
I see me searching frantically for the car keys so we can go to Grandma’s on Christmas Eve, but one of the kids has thrown them in the toy box. I see a Christmas tree that has more branches on one side than the other so we keep turning it around and finally it falls over.
And I see me making a stocking for the new baby with an old red towel and some white fluff.
And I see our family sitting in a quiet church on Christmas Eve lit only with candlelight and the feeling of absolute joy that permeates my entire being when I hear the choir sing.
And then I wake up. I’m late. Again.
But somehow, it doesn’t matter. I found it. The magic and meaning of the season. It’s back. And it’s all good.
Merry Christmas, everyone. I hope you find it, too! Your own special magic of the season.