Sadness woke me early one morning between Christmas and the new year. Immediately I registered the strangeness of such a palpable feeling pulling me out of pre-dawn sleep. Naming my sadness was easy, even only half awake. It was guilt that I hadn't acted happy/grateful/joyous each day of their visit, that I'd gotten annoyed more than once and let it show. The most stinging of all, though, was the echo in my head of me screaming at Liza on Christmas day. I think there's a part of each of us that wishes for a perfect holiday, the one where happiness pervades and everything feels magical with a twinkling tree in the house. I could have let myself spiral deeper into my lonely middle-of-the-night regret, but I consciously chose not to.
Instead I focused on
*the picture I snapped of Lee in the light of our first attempt at outdoor decorations...palm trees wrapped in hundreds of glowing white lights
*sprinkling reindeer food on the front yard with Liza on Christmas Eve
*relinquishing bath and bedtime duties to my sister and brother-in-law
*watching "The Holiday" and baking cookies with my Mom
*playing at the park and feeding the ducks
*game nights by the tree
*cooking Christmas Eve dinner alongside my dad and having it turn out so yummy
It's a matter of perspective, choosing what to dwell on, and finding the almost perfect moments stuck inside the humanness of it all.
2 comments:
Well I'm sure it always seems worse to you (the imaginer) than to everyone else. It is always easier if you forgo perfect for "perfect-enough". It is good you can realize the JOY in it all! Love ya kiddo
Why do we do this to ourselves???
I admire your putting your less-than-perfect stuff out there.
I blame high expectations that never seem to reach the level we want or expect it to. The older I get the less expect perfection.
So, my vote is "SIMPLY TO BE!!"
Post a Comment