This is Real Life, and This...is Real Christmas

I used to love Christmas time. The holiday season would start as my family woke up to Macy's Christmas parade, and the smell of turky in the oven. The family would gather around a huge southern meal and then press repeat as we trotted over to my Granny and Paw's house to enjoy another gorge fest. Then, shortly after, and in some rare occasions, on the same day, I would celebrate my birthday by shaking and tearing off pieces of wrapping paper from birthday presents that sat under our already decorated Christmas tree. After my birthday, the countdown for Christmas was on, and a good indicater that we were getting close came in a large, brown UPS box from Pensylvania. My brother and I would wage war against our parents and make peace pacts in order that mom and dad would allow us to delve into the large box that contained our Christmas presents and homemade Christmas cookies from our Northern Grandmother and family. Once that brown UPS box was devoured, the days were numbered for when Christmas day would arrive with all it's magic and splendor. Our house was filled with warm smells of cookies, and delicious Christmas treats, the sounds of Christmas carols, and laughter from Christmas movie marathons.

Now, I'm an adult with two real adult jobs and to say that the magic and spirit of Christmas have been stripped from my life is a slight understatement. I have to work two jobs--it's the only way my bills, and more importantly, that nagging student loan get fed. Recently, my job has taken away our holiday days, and has left me unable to go home for Thanksgiving or Christmas. With no days, and an ever shrinking budget, finding the financial means to take an upaid day off from work, plus buy everyone presents has been more than I can handle. People at work talk about going to the mountains for Christmas to open presents, or about attending holiday parties with copious amounts of food and alcohol (the new, adult spirit of Christmas) but I can't find myself being excited about any of it. I miss my magical Christmas with my family, and if I can't have that, then I might as well not have Christmas at all.

Now, at 30, my apartment shows no resemblance of Christmas, and those classic tunes and television shows that I once cherrished are no longer splashed across my television screen for weeks before the big day. Instead, I've come to realize how possible it is for people to truly disregard the season. There are pressures to go home--going home, when you can't afford it, there are pressures to buy people nice gifts and reflect your success when you hang out with family you haven't seen all year, and then even the stress of facing those in your family who have long since disregarded you.

Christmas for me was never about the material, it was about my family, the festivities, and the magic. It's been 13 years since that brown cardboard box come from Pensylvania, but this is the first year that the magic is gone for me.