Fa-la-la-la-blah: In a year full of struggles, it’s OK to lighten up on festivities
We are solidly in December, yet I have not decked one bough of holly anywhere indoors. I’ve never been this late with the task. Honestly, even if your life is on the most positive trajectory, festooning is a task. But mimicking a Hallmark movie is way more difficult if you’re off balance, as I am now.
When I walk or drive at night and see Christmas trees sparkling in others’ windows, my soul flinches a little. The trees are beacons along dark streets, winking to passersby and giving “back-atchas” to the heavens above. Yet this year, these sightings nudge me with a feeling of being on the outside looking in. I’m behind, I’m behind. How can I do this?
A perfect storm led to this delay, including new responsibilities and mostly the lead feet of grief. I lost my dad this year. He was always the one who ambitiously holidayed up my childhood home to dazzle me, my brothers — and especially our mom. In my childhood days, he would patiently drive us to multiple tree lots until we found the perfect fir. We were such a pain.
Even in his elderly years, Dad would transform the fireplace mantel into a Macy’s-worthy display. Yet he joked about how people would get caught up in holiday shopping and wrapping, and unnecessary stress. Usually late on Christmas night, after beautiful wrapping paper was smashed into trash cans, he would hum the “Deck the Halls” tune. The last note he’d end emphatically with the word “poof!” As in, all that frenzy and poof, it’s over.
But at least I sense a stirring desire for a little participation. I might decorate, albeit late. I did have a quick surge of ambition one warm November day. Enough, with the help of my husband, to get our minimal outside lights up. Maybe that’s almost like a forced smile with tree branches and GE bulbs. It’s something, though.
We also lit up a small evergreen tree in the otherwise dark backyard, for the first time ever. It wiped out our extension cord supply, but I’ve always wanted to do that. Earlier this year cardinals started dwelling around that tree. Interpret, interpret. I love seeing it sparkle from my kitchen windows. Now I’m on the inside, looking out.
But I know the red and green plastic storage bins with the indoor stuff will weigh twice as much this year. Maybe I’ll muddle through. I guess. One thing is certain: I can’t bring myself to have our 4-foot-tall nutcracker stand sentry by the staircase.
When my dad visited us so many Christmases, he’d start one-sided arguments with the festive soldier, just to make his grandsons laugh. It was an ongoing gag. He’d abruptly stop in front of the oversized nutcracker, scolding, “Who are you looking at? What did you say? Get out of here!”
If you’re not exactly feeling it this holiday season — many of us are coping with gut punches — consider my current approach. Just do what you can, and never apologize for skipping the conga lines. You might find moments when you feel like having a little celebration. It could be in the form of using a simple holiday coffee mug. Or you might experience a surprise burst of energy, finding yourself hauling a 9-foot tree down from the attic. Go with the positive moments, as I did with lighting our small backyard evergreen.
My mom, who is devastated, has voiced her desire to tone it all down this year. Rightfully so. Yet to my surprise, when we were shopping for sweatpants in Target last week, she paused at a holiday display. An endcap was loaded with little felt Santa figurines hurling snowballs. She insisted on buying one for me. It was a glimmer of hope under the cold fluorescent lights of an ordinary chain store. I’ll take it.
We stumbled upon a snowball-fighting Santa Claus! It was unexpected, yet perfect. Because sometimes, especially over the holidays, you have to battle to get your footing.
Reach Denise Snodell at stripmalltree@gmail.com
