Christmas lives again!

For various reasons last year, we were never quite able to coordinate a free weekend to see some family members for Christmas, and suddenly a year had elapsed. For months, bags of wrapped presents remained unopened in my room, one more obstacle in an already overcrowded environment. I was looking forward, then, to today, to spending time with relatives and at long last dispensing with presents for my aunt, uncle, cousin, his wife, and two children. No longer would I trip over bags and boxes, or resort to walking across my bed to reach my clothes in the morning. It was going to be a good day.

During the course of the week, I realized I was going to have to rewrap the presents. Besides the potential for dust and or cat dander having settled on the gifts, irritants to my cousin's 4-year-old son's allergies, while I spent the year walking around the packages my cat simply walked over them. I found the occasional spot of scratched, torn, or punctured paper during a cursory examination. I should have taken care of this problem by last night at the latest but, exhausted after working late, I opted instead to wait for this morning. After all, how long could it take me?

Time is my mortal enemy when it comes to a deadline, and as the clock raced toward our time of departure, my mom came downstairs to see how I was doing. “Three more to go!” I called out, continuing to fold and tape. Moments later I heard my parents talking upstairs as though I couldn't hear them. When I was a child, sometimes I'd stay in bed a little while after waking up so I could hear them talking in the kitchen. Was I in trouble for something? Were they having an argument? What was I getting for my birthday? Later, when I'd let slip something I could only have overheard, my mom would shake her head and comment about “those little ears”. These days, my dad's poor hearing requires both he and anyone addressing him to speak louder. Eavesdropping isn't so much of a challenge anymore.

“Boy, he is slow.” she said. “He's still wrapping.”

“STILL wrapping?!” asked my dad with no hidden incredulity. “I bet that's why he doesn't get his work done at his job.”

Minutes passed before my mom returned to check on my progress. I had one package to go but she needed to use the table. It seemed I wasn't the only one in the family to wait until the last minute, and she too had gifts to wrap. I finished the last package and began loading up the car. I took a shower, got dressed, and it would be another hour before my mom was ready to go. We were supposed to be at my uncle's by 2 PM, which was our time of departure, so she called to let him know we were running late. If I'm slow, I must get it from somewhere.

Eventually, after stopping at a card store for my mom to get lottery tickets to include with the gifts, and after returning home so my dad could use the bathroom again, we were finally on our way. The expressway reminded me of a story a friend at work told me this week, about the time a police officer pulled him over for doing 160 MPH. Alas, in recounting this story I missed our exit, and in listening my mom forgot to point it out. Miraculously, though we were last to arrive, we had not yet missed dinner. We gathered in their living room, near their grand piano, and had a nice time exchanging and opening gifts. The kids really made the visit worth it, and genuinely loved the gifts I got them. It wasn't long before my cousin's 6-year-old daughter was explaining the little electronic Barbie® video game to her father, unlocking hidden drawing tools and other activities. His son lost himself in an imaginary world once he'd assembled the Playmobil® pirate playset I'd given him. Children are the real magic of the holidays, and I was a little amazed myself at the cannon, boat, tower, and other fun aspects of the toy. I also learned that his son was a big Star Wars® fan, as father and son showed off their lightsabers. My cousin told me that, during the pivotal scene in Empire Strikes Back, when Darth Vader reveals his true identity, his son turned to him in wide-eyed wonderment, exclaiming, “You never told me THAT!” I thought that was awesome. It was as if my cousin could experience a moment from his own youth all over again, through his son's eyes.

It was a long but enjoyable day, and upon arriving home we unloaded the boxes from the trunk with the presents we had been given. As I sit here typing, unwrapped presents occupy my room, one more obstacle in an already overcrowded environment. Soon I will trip over bags and boxes, or resort to walking across my bed to reach my clothes. Christmas is great for the children, but at some point for adults I think it almost becomes an exercise in trading junk. Mind you, I received a lot of great items, from a new shirt to slippers to a slot machine game for my television to various gift cards. But as these objects cover the rug I'd at last glimpsed again this morning, ever so fleetingly, I can't help wondering if my room is the vacuum which nature abhors.

Christmas is officially over now for my kin and I, but it will live again...