Much to my surprise, a photograph of a Christmas past, that has crossed my path many times over the years, woke up something inside that is very relevant to Christmas present.
There stood a family posed in matching nightwear, in the dishevelment of post gift opening on Christmas morning. All was not going as planned. The envisioned merriment was not there. Instead, a father, a mother and two young daughters stood dazed by the effort of too much role playing.
One glance at the picture this time, viscerally brought back the memory of the deep fatigue of a Mrs. Christmas who had immersed herself for weeks into the production of The Perfect Christmas.
It was the hubris of a young woman, who thought she could create a Christmas that would be all things, to the generations of people she loved.
Her husband, showered and shaved was ready for his role of the grand, gracious, host. Dishevelled me, stared blankly beyond the timed camera to the chaos of celebrations that lay ahead. The thawing turkey did not even make it into my mind. My children had their own private thoughts. From their expressions, it would seem visions of sugarplums were not dancing in their heads.
No doubt, as the day progressed, each and every one had a moment or two of glee and I am just as certain most had a moment or two of deep sadness. Such is the reality of grand family celebrations.
With age I am beginning to look more and more like Mrs. Christmas. With time the realization has finally come that I don't have to be Mrs. Christmas.
This kind of knowing is one of the joys that come with aging.
