Merry Christmas

For the second time in years, tears rolled down my eyes without following a surge of angry or hurt feelings.

The first time was a year ago when I was driving home from work and I spotted a woman with a dog by the intersection.  The dog looked and moved exactly like Milo – my sister’s pet back home who I found myself being a full-time stepmom to. I realized how much I missed the happy bonding run and fetch moments I shared with that hairy mutt. Cheesy, I know but nonetheless sent tears streaming down.

Last night was the next. I continued to catch up with my 90210 re-run recordings and they featured an episode where Donna’s mom was selling their family house and Donna told David about her happy childhood memories and how Christmas was her favorite time in that house. Long story short, David arranged for an off-season final Christmas in the house with the giant Christmas tree, the ornaments, Christmas carols in the background, the eggnog, family and friends wearing Santa hats. I could almost smell Donna’s Christmas…Donna’s final Christmas in that house.

And I suddenly smelled my own memories of Christmas past. Growing up in the  ancestral house, midnight mass in a private convent, new clothes, new shoes (that hurt because they haven’t been broken in), Christmas carols on the radio, our giant tree, Christmas eve (and “Noche Buena”) treats, cheese(!), the twinkling Tivoli lights, waking up on Christmas morning, the cool breeze, and spending time with family. 

FAMILY.  I miss my family. Is homesickness making its way in? Is it slowly creeping through tiny holes and gaps of the box that houses my heart? Through the cracks on windows that have been boarded up and doors I have nailed shut? I’m not dense, but I try to keep emotions at bay as much as I can, trying my best to live up to being the anchor of strength in my family that I can’t fold and will never intend to. Or perhaps, I take after my grandmother, the matriarch, who indirectly showed me how to be a real lady in emotional moments –calm and “seemingly” unaffected, zealous in her love but strangely distant; keeping it together to try and keep everyone from crumbling…in full control but straining hard not to dangerously collapse inside. 

I make sure every long distance phone call to my parents is a cheerful one – to leave them laughing and their spirits high until the next one, or to distract them and make them forget about me not being close by.  I’m miles away from these special people in the treasured Christmases of my childhood. Memories that make you ache to experience all over again but you know you can't. A hundred little pieces of homesickness pierced through last night.  Or perhaps, just being far away pushes one to wax prematurely nostalgic at age 35.  For whatever it was, this steel magnolia finally cried…