26 December 2009
My Christmas Day
I woke up at 0430 and just listened to the pouring rain. It was coming down hard. I thought of my basement and the sump pump. Sometimes, the pump just about breaks even. I went out on my front porch and saw all of the puddles forming in the dark. Then I noticed all this newspaper scattered on the front steps. I had forgotten to check my mailbox yesterday and realised it was the grocery coupon mailer. I stuck my hand outside the porch door and grabbed what was in the box and left the soggy paper on the steps thinking I’d retrieve it later when the rain stopped.
I rarely get personal mail delivered to my house as I have a PO box. However, I noticed a red envelope and quickly looked at it thinking it was a Christmas card. It was. I almost cried when I read it. It was such a beautiful card from my son. I was so happy that he remembered to send me a card. With everything that has happened in the last couple of months, the only energy I was able to muster was getting a card and a present for my son. I did not send out cards to anyone, but I did receive about ten cards which pleased me.
I rambled around the house for a while and then went out to the living room and cranked my stereo and just sat there and zoned out on the music (it would have been far much more pleasant if I could have rolled a joint). After a while, I decided to check my email and was pleased to see an email from a good friend of mine. He was inviting me to join him, his mother, stepfather and adorable two-year-old daughter for their Christmas dinner later that afternoon. What a special treat for me. I decide to call him and accept the invitation once it got to be a decent hour.
The morning just crept by. I was not in the mood to do any writing and felt a little aimless. It was too early to take my medicine and I did not feel like reading anything. So, I just sat on my couch and closed my eyes and listened to the music. I am so glad I live in a house rather than an apartment. I do have an upstairs neighbour that rents the small attic apartment above, but he was gone for the holidays and enjoyed turning up the stereo louder than usual (he’s hardly ever home, so that doesn’t really affect me)
1000 came around. I called my friend and told him how delighted I was to get his invitation, and I would love to join them later in the afternoon. It was still pouring outside and hoped the weather would clear up before I had to leave. Imagine, my family all celebrated holidays without me (their decision, not mine) and here I was able to join another family to partake in a Christmas dinner. I was really looking forward to this opportunity.
The afternoon finally rolled around and I started to get ready. The rain had finally stopped. When I got to his house, it was great to see everyone. This was the first time I had met his stepfather. My friend’s parents live out of town, but I’ve met his mom before as sometime she comes to town and she attends church with him. His stepfather was a great guy. I really enjoyed talking to him as my friend and his mom got dinner ready (I was instructed to relax!). I felt guilty just sitting there while they worked in the kitchen, but I really enjoyed getting to know his stepfather
While the food was great, what I enjoyed more than anything was sitting around the dinner table and sharing the meal with this family. We spent such a long time lingering over dinner and dessert (my friend actually baked the cherry pie—while I love to cook, baking has never been my thing). The conversation was warm and inviting; I was having a great time. When dessert was over, my plans were to help his mom clean up, but again I was kicked out of the kitchen. The rest of the evening we spent in the living room all sharing stories. What a close family they were. I envied my friend; I had not had this much fun sharing a meal in such a long time.
At 1930 I was bushed. I think the combination of a great meal coupled with the fact that I had been up for 15 hours did me in. This was the best Christmas I had enjoyed since my son visited me.©2009