'Tis the Season

I’m afraid.  I mean, think of it – massive credit card debt, traffic, flashing lights, binge eating and drinking, awful interpretations of questionable music, deforestation.  Not to mention, flying reindeer, snowmen that talk, elves, and a big guy who flies up and down chimneys.

   What is really scaring me is that I am weakening.  It’s getting to me and I can feel my resolve begin to slowly fall away.  Any sense that I might once have had, whether common or one of a practical nature, seems to be fading, as each silent night passes.  That day, the big one, is getting closer and nothing can stop it.  Certainly, one man, alone against the forces of the season, is worse than powerless; he’s in danger.

   My worries grow.  And, with good reason.  Just last night M.L. turned to me and said, in a tender, joyful, and understanding tone, “I think you’ve got it.  You’re excited.”

  I bahhed and humbugged loudly, as I turned over and pounded my pillow.  The lights, outside, shone insidiously through the damn frost on the windows, but shattered into something undeniably spectacular.  I couldn’t get Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow out of my head.

   She wisely said no more.  As I lay there, I began to think of all the shopping bags on the floor of the closet and of what was in them.  I couldn’t help it.  Who should get the stars that glow in the dark?  Who would like that scented, white candle?  I wondered if I should keep the yo-yo for myself.  With a shock, I realized it had gone too far.  I knew things had changed in a way I could not have foreseen two weeks ago.

   Denial was no longer possible.  I had to face it.  I did have it.  I had caught it, as the doctors say.  The Christmas spirit was not a joke anymore.  It had become reality. 

   I pulled the covers tight and squeezed my eyes shut.  I hoped that, if I could only lie still enough, it would pass, but I was afraid, deep down, that it was hopeless.  Before I knew it, I was making a list for the next day – bookstore, that sweater I saw, and toys.  Just a little something for the stockings.  I was even thinking about wrapping paper.

   It was more than I was prepared to admit, but I couldn’t avoid it.  It shook me to my core.  I pulled the covers even closer and looked at the windows flashing red and green.  I sighed deeply, with resignation, and yet, with something else, something that made my heart beat a little faster, and, for the first time all season, I turned and whispered to my wife, “Merry Christmas.”