Busy

By Beck

It is very, very early in the morning. I am up and writing because I have so much planned for today that this – this time of day I normally use for sleeping – is the only time I have to write. And this is how you can tell that it’s getting very close to Christmas, the way that my daily schedule suddenly has filled right up and the way that I wake up feeling all festively tense and overburdened.

Remember last year, when The Girl planned a carolling party all on her own? She was trying to raise money to buy toys for a young friend who had lost her house and everything in it to a housefire right before Christmas – and not only did the Girl and her friends successfully buy her some new Webkinz, they were also able to donate over $100 to our local food bank. I was pretty proud of her, and she’s planned another carolling party for this weekend and I feel JUST like falling on the floor and howling. I hate throwing parties and my house is a mess and it’s too cold to go traipsing around town singing. I don’t want to do this.

Of course, the awful punchline is that these effort-laden things are the things that stand out the most for me, the things that end up being glowing, joyous memories. Christmas suddenly came sparkling to life for me last year as I watched children leap from snowbanks to stand, joyously singing, in the golden doorwawys of strangers’ houses. And knowing this makes me continue trudging through days like today, although not with substantially better grace.

And now I have to go make cookies for the school bake sale, make a second gluten-free batch for a certain young person, clean my entire house, wrap a zillion presents, take my kids sliding, run a bunch of errands and someplace in all of this business, in this muddle of life and if I am very lucky, Christmas will reveal itself again.