Let it Snow?
If you think the weather outside is frightening, you should see what going on in my head.
The Tree
The miniature Christmas tree stared back at me with indignant, impunity from the other side of the table. Damn, I must be grumpy to start casting aspersions on inanimate objects at six fucking o’clock in the morning. The foot-tall “tree” was varnished and sprayed with faux snow to resemble the real tree it was once a part of. Some creative florist, or maybe a gnome, had cleaved this branch from the mother tree in pursuit of the spiritual joy of Father Christmas. Or maybe gross commercialism and seasonal capitalism just conspired to randomly start amputating coniferous carbon sequesters in hopes of putting the planet out of its misery sooner, rather than later
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God, I need a drink, I thought, Communion wine, maybe, or just plain Kentucky Bourbon? Neither choice summoned an appetizing taste companion to the half-finished chocolate croissant on the plate before me. Especially at six o’clock in the morning.
The Spirit of Christmas has shrunk inside me, smaller than the tiny tree I sat staring at. A mere shadow of what it had once been, before the layers of disappointments weighted down the boughs close to breaking. Where were the joys of childish memories, the smell of cinnamon, the sound of sleigh bells tinkling, and thoughts of peace on earth, goodwill toward all men and women? Well, what did you expect? They crucified the Son of God, didn’t they? Who wouldn’t be depressed?
No, that is not the right story, at least right now. This is about the birth, the birth of a new idea, a new era, the transition from the Old Testament to one of new ideals. A movement from rules and retribution to tolerance, still with rules and yet, with forgiveness as a possibility. I’m no Biblical scholar so it’s just my notion that this was a foreshadowing of the Renaissance, perhaps the seeds of the Age of Reason. Sure, they got a lot of things wrong and it took 1400 more years until the Italians learned to read and appreciate classical Greek writings and invented pizza. In fairness, change is hard for humans.
People who love Christmas, for all the right and wrong reasons don’t understand. And they have, no doubt, stopped reading this descent into the darkness of holiday depression. There are a million reasons why this sickness afflicts people, maybe more. Maybe each and every miserable soul has their own unique cocktail of holiday anti-cheer. One never knows what lies beneath.
We try to hide it; and most of the time, it works. Good! That’s the way it should be. No sense in spreading this miserable and, sometimes fatal, affliction to those who float above the unseen maelstrom of Christmas chaos that washes over some of us. But maybe, just maybe … the next time you wish someone a Merry Christmas, look them in the eye and ask: How are you holding up? This is the time of year when everyone, even me, needs to look up. A star is rising in the east when it is darkest just before dawn. People call it different names. I call it Hope.
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Your writing is always interesting and often thought-provoking. Plus, you build the story with interesting language. This particular piece probably reflects the experience of most people in the US. They just don't sing caroles about their doubts, disappointments, and depression. You give a voice to the quiet ones sitting in the back of the room.