Chrismis

I miss Christmas as a kid. I miss pouring over the humongous toy catalogue that came in the mail from Toys R Us every year, trying to find the perfect Medieval Lego set priced well under $100 dollars. I miss new Nintendo systems coming out, and begging for months to have one, and never really expecting one, but then actually getting one.

I miss the futility of attempting to sleep Christmas eve, and the pre-bed negotiations about the hour in which it would be legal to arise and acquire our stockings. I feel like my parents typically acquiesced to 5 am for the stocking retrieval, and then 6 am for present time.

I miss my parents saying, throughout the entire month of December, that times were tough this year, and Christmas probably wouldn't be as good as previous years. And then Christmas always being just as good, if not better than previous years.

I miss getting the absolute shittiest of presents that my siblings purchased from the Secret Santa Workshop at school. So shitty, in fact, that I can not recall a single one. But it sure made them feel like they were able to maintain an element of surprise in their gift giving, which is most of the fun.

I miss the year that I woke up about 4 am, and decided to pass the last hour watching cartoons. My room was directly adjacent to the TV area. I surreptitiously crept out of my room, sat on the Lazy-e-boy, and turned on the cartoons, keeping the sound above barely a whisper. Within moments, most of my siblings had sensed an animated presence in the house, and had themselves materialized upon the couches surrounding me. And then my mother, sensing the un welcomed AM cartoon invasion, and the premature arousal of her children, came downstairs and thwarted our efforts at arriving at legal Christmas wake up time via a quick, Nickelodeon diversion.

I miss having unmarried siblings with nowhere else to go.

I miss telling my best friend that I found out that Santa wasn't real. And then him telling his little sister that Santa wasn't real. Then his mom bitching to my mom about her telling me, me telling him, and he telling his sister, that Santa wasn't real.

I miss Santa being real.

I miss those 25 days till Christmas calendars with the little cardboard doors with the serrated edges that hide 25 dry, nasty chocolate treats within. I miss the tole painted elf with the little wooden squares that dictated how many days till Christmas, and taking turns with my siblings, changing the number each night.

I miss John Denver and the Muppets Christmas album being a Thanksgiving-December 25 staple.

I do not miss the year that my mother made us go see Voice Male.

I think I most miss really getting into the spirit of Christmas. It is difficult to do so, I think, when one lives alone. And when one is really busy with work and school, and living alone throughout most of December.

Merry Christmas, friends. Enjoy it with people you love.