Every Christmas Eve seems different in my mind. I keep thinking that the year before lasts’ was the best. That there was more excitement, that I was better prepared. Somehow I think I have started lying to myself to make me think I could do better. Seems to work for most things, I got out of bed before 9 (AH! Gasp) today and got on our stationary bike and booked it for an hour. I rode my horse, read the paper, ate breakfast and read a little bit. Most of this would be an incredible accomplishment for a day, but on Christmas Eve I still feel like I have presents to get for mom and dad, and I KNOW there are bundles that need to be wrapped. Right now I cannot for the life of me find the motivation to wrap. Part of that may be because I would really prefer spending the night reading my dad’s gift, he got the best one. Part of that may also be that I’d rather write poetry, or, as you can now read, write this blog. There just seems to be no more magic in this gift giving business anymore.
This Christmas is the first holiday I’ve been home for, I missed Thanksgiving. It’s been strange being home. I got all my gifts before I got home except for one very strange present for dad that I hope he appreciates.....we’ll see. He’ll get an Academy Award for smiling when he unwraps the brilliant wooden puzzles we found for him on our mad dash through the mall. I’m not that “Christmas” person anymore, last year I was one. I was singing carols from October to February. Now I just want my summer and Fourth of July. That’s okay to me, I can get through 4 more weeks of family.
As the year closes I’ve been falling asleep in my all too quiet and VERY lonely room reflecting on how little space I have grown accustomed to. You can’t lose things as easily when you have the equivalent of a large bathroom stall as your side of the room. Now, you can make a very big mess and there is no telling the things you mix up, but you can not lose things quite as easily. Most of the time they are right there in front of you. Jumping out of your bathroom stall box and into the larger box of college campus you don’t need much to survive, only a small amount of academic know-how and a little bit of pixie dust and you can achieve almost anything. Out of your box, you need a little more spunk and pixie dust.
I intend to manufacture this pixie dust. I’m happier and more content than I’ve been in a while. Santa can come, or he could not. It’s all fine, I’m here with my family and I will be gone back to Missoula in a couple weeks, and it’s all fine. I saw my horse today and I miss him, but he will still be here while I’m away and everybody loves him. My music comes with me everywhere and keeps me sane, and I can’t quite stop imagining the shenanigans that will ensue after I’ve gotten back. And as I finish typing this I’m already imagining ways to explain Montana to dad, oh dear.....
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