It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas...

What a sweet sensation Christmas brings!
There is a feeling, scent and sound that surrounds you in the city during the holidays. Not during work hours necessarily, but afterwards, at night. As you make your way through overly trafficked streets, finding people's driving even more aggravating than usual, there's a particular feeling of Christmas.
I can't quite explain it, this feeling. It's not the smell of cinnamon in the air or the sound of Christmas carols. It's more akin to the briskness in our moves as we make our way through crowded shopping malls trying to find thoughtful gifts in the blink of an eye, and in the subconscious sensation that an impending source of joy awaits us.
When we were children it was so cut and dry. We'd count the days until Christmas. The holidays meant new toys and clothes, and time away from school.
The joy the Christmas holiday brings to us as we get older is much more subdued. As a rule, the head of household tends to view it from afar with a touch of disdain. More than anything else it signifies an additional expense; a drain on our pocketbook. But, I must confess, as the day draws near and after we've gotten used to seeing the tree and decorations our wives put up (and the outdoor lights they made us hang), we start looking forward to seeing the smile on our children's faces, the glow in our loved one's eyes as they open each gift...it becomes once again, truly a time for celebration. A celebration of love and family.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A red rose for Claudia

Image
I cut a red rose close to the head and removed its thorns. It was small, but fully opened. Its fragrance filled my air and made me think of Claudia. Carefully, I placed it on an open page from the book I bought her. Baudellaire's collected poems. Not very romantic, but we both shared the same love for dark poetry. The rose found its place, evenly pressed by the weight of the pages around it. I kept the book for several days afterwards, to ensure that the rose took it well. When it works, the rose maintains its color and brightness with a trace of its aroma. Mine looked fine. Claudia was sitting alone, reading, at a small cafe called The Place, not far from where she lived. She was still wearing her school uniform, but she had on a thick, white virgin wool sweater over the top. It was the button down type, with big brown wood-like buttons. She looked terrific. Barely fifteen, and she lit my world. She was taking a sip from her tea as I approached. "Hi," I...
Read more

San Lorenzo

I recall the beaten path of rocky grass, entrenched by moss covered stone walls. It ran alongside the border of my father's farm, and for many miles farther across the foot of the mountain. El Camino Real, it was called. Too narrow and contoured for any wheeled vehicle, it was only to be traveled afoot or on horseback.   Before the advent of carriages -and later motor cars- brought about the need for better roads, El Camino Real was the only way for the local folk to cross the territory without trespassing on somebody else's property. In rural Colombia, during the early twentieth century, the lands were vast and sparsely populated, and the laws were vague and barely enforced. People brandished machetes and shotguns, and defended their turf by whatever means necessary. Many shallow graves were dug near the riverbank; unmarked and unvisited.     Inhabited mostly by mestizos and descendants of the tribal natives who innocently ...
Read more

We're getting older...

I don't want to be very graphic about my activities, late yesterday afternoon. Suffice it to say that having several gloved medical personnel prying open your buttocks so that another may cut and scrape away offending blood clots from your anus, is not an enjoyable occurrence. I rank it up there with root canal or having my toenail removed (I had hemorrhaging below my big toenail and it was getting infected - they had to remove the entire toenail to get to it). I guess it's a sign of age, that the last few years I've had to undergo so many procedures. Things that ten years ago I barely knew existed. How we change... My wife turns 39 today. I turn 39 on Sunday. I married an older woman. This will be our last year before we hit the big ***40***. Funny, how I used to consider 40 as being old. Now, I'm vigorously trying to view it as a new beginning. We'll see. I have a whole year left to ponder it.
Read more