Story-A-Day #25: Anticipation

ANTICIPATION

As a young girl, Christmas had always been an electric time, one filled with the promising excitement of toys galore. It was a simple concept to sum up for a young child and until the age of seven, there was no site more resplendent, more immaculately perfect than a perfectly decked tree spilling gifts across the living room. That coupled with the mystique of a jolly fat man who appeared unannounced at night to make it happen, really defined the moment for her. It was the self-serving phase of Christmas where every moment was about “me”.

Somewhere around the age seven, that had changed. It was weird at first, but watching her parents open the gifts that she had cobbled together in art class and with her spare allowance money, had given her just as much pleasure as opening the expensive and elaborate gifts that her family and Santa had brought for her.

The magic of the holiday faded as certain truths were revealed, but there was always a tinkling in the corners. Even during the late high school and early college years, when catching up with her friends became more of a priority than spending time with her family, there was always a hint of something there.

Now, as she decorated her own home, some of the mysteries of the season became clear. It really was about feelings, and those feelings were deeply ingrained in the nostalgia and love that she had experienced growing up. Her childhood traditions had somehow come along for the ride and had moved with her from under her parents roof, to her own home.

As she hung the decorations up, decorations that she herself had made as a young child, she realized that anticipation was still very much a part of her celebration. That was the magic undercurrent of Christmas.

She could see it now, that progress of anticipation that went from ripping open gifts, to watching others open theirs, to relishing the quieter moments of the season where you could spend real quality time with your family and friends. Turkey dinner, a few cocktails, the smell of shortbread cookies fresh from the oven, the warmth of the tree lights glowing dimly through the room. That was what she was anticipating now. Those little moments that defined the season.

She looked at the metal-framed ornaments hanging on her door one last time and then picked up the box of garland by her feet. There was still so much to do.