Not Quite Merry and Bright

Here's a quirky fact about me: after years of being an alto in various choirs, I have difficulty remembering the melodies of carols. I always sing strange harmony parts that I've picked up at one time or another. There are some songs that I flat out don't know the melody to (such as It's a Marshmallow World in the Winter, or whatever that horrid wreck of a song is called... had to learn it in a choir, but didn't know it outside of that). It's very strange. And with the possible exceptions of the harmonies I know for Angels We Have Heard on High and Silver Bells, alto lines are boring. Usually, they're just a sequence of of notes that are lower than the melody line by thirds or fifths. Either that, or they consist of three notes sung in a random, somewhat repetitive order. I'm always a little nervous about singing carols as I walk around town, because I'm so worried that I'll accidentally start singing the alto part and people near me will just think I'm tragically tone deaf.

Generally, I'm a big fan of Christmas-time. People always seem a little cheerier than normal. A little more generous, perhaps. It's contagious. But this year... I don't know. It's like it isn't quite clicking into place for me.

My family was driving around today, and we all started snapping at each other. We stopped for lunch at a rest area with a food court. I wasn't hungry, so I sat down at a table by myself as everyone else ordered their meals. I sat and begin to question whether the car trip had put me in a bad mood, or if I was in one already. I started getting upset without much cause or warning. And then the speakers playing holiday music started emitting a woman's voice singing, I'll Be Home for Christmas.

Before I knew what was happening, there were tears streaming down my face. I tried to stop crying, but I couldn't. I ran up to my parents and asked if I could wait in the car. They started asking if one of my brother's had taunted me, and if that was the cause for my tears. I mumbled something about the song. My dad handed me the keys, and as I hurried away I heard him explain to my mother that I wanted to be in Michigan for Christmas. Not in Connecticut.

I climbed into the back of the mini-van and just started sobbing. One of my brothers called me on his cell phone to ask if I was alright, so I said I was. I tried calling a friend on the phone, but he didn't answer. After a few minutes, my mother came into the car and asked if I was okay. I gave her an "I don't want to talk about it" brush off, and she sat there with me until my dad and the boys returned.

This is the longest period of time I've spent away from Michigan in my entire life (and that includes the semester I spent abroad). When I was four, we moved into the house I call "home", and now I haven't been there since the first week of August. And I don't know if/when I'll be back. It just feels... wrong. Something is different. Missing. Lost. I've been with my family for two days, but I feel like I'm still waiting to get home.

I have a nasty crying-induced headache now. As I've mentioned before (see A Little Water Clears Us), when I start crying, it stays in me for awhile. The rest of my family is downstairs watching television together, but I wanted to get away from that. So I'm in "my" room, breathing somewhat erratically and trying not to relapse into my liquid state.



I'm sure it will be better tomorrow, once we start celebrating. We'll take on our old traditions, and things will start fitting together again.

And now, for one of my signature lists:

- Truffles
My dad makes chocolate truffles. He's let me help him since I was a wee child. I don't remember when it started. I don't really remember my brothers ever getting involved. It was more between my dad and me. Earlier today, my dad was searching for his recipe, and when I showed signs of excitement, my mother said she didn't know I helped with the truffles. No idea how it has escaped her attention for almost twenty years.

- Cinnamon Rolls
My parents made cinnamon rolls every Christmas Eve while they were Santa-Claus-ing, and we'd have them for breakfast on Christmas morning. Once we grew out of the Santa thing, my brothers and I began helping. Now we make batches upon batches, and give them to neighbors as gifts.

- Carols
My dad is a phenomenal pianist, and he likes to play every carol imaginable while the rest of the family sings. Of course, now that we're in Connecticut, my aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandmother aren't here to sing... So it'll really just be me and my mother. And maybe one of my brothers. Not quite the same.

-The Over-Wrapped Present
This one has been absent for the last couple of Christmas celebrations, so maybe we've grown out of it. Every year with my brothers and I, someone would give someone else something in which the wrapping was more fun than the gift itself. Like a Russian-doll inspired wrapping job with a box in a box in a box. Or putting a small present in a huge box, and including some large books from around the house inside to make the box heavy in case they tried to shake it to guess what it was.

- The Last Present
We exchange presents on Christmas Eve, and for some reason it's a big deal to give the last present of the night. We've never even verbalized this; it's just understood. This was my dad's specialty, but occasionally others of us will try to fight him for the honor. We'll hide presents around the room. Once nothing is left under the tree, someone will say, "Wait! I've got one more." Once that's unwrapped, someone else will have one more... One year, I hid three presents under Santa hats around the room, which I broke out after I thought everyone else was done. My dad still "won", by putting a present for my mom on top of a bookshelf (and it was a HUGE gift in clear sight. No idea how no one saw it). Last year, he hid something between chairs in our family room by cleverly NOT wrapping it, but instead leaving it in a plastic bag. Somehow, it didn't register that it was a gift at all. I only bought one present per person this year, so I won't be in the running to give the last gift. Ah well. Maybe next year.

- The Pickle
This is a new thing for us. There's this urban legend that in Germany families hide a pickle somewhere in the Christmas tree, and the child who finds it gets an extra present. My dad claims that this is a fake tradition that doesn't actually exist in Germany, but we think it's hilarious nonetheless. So last year, my mother put a hamburger dill in the Christmas tree, and it was really just a race to find it before the dog did. This year, I bought a pickle ornament at Christkindlmarket (a German Christmas fair in Chicago), but when I got here I realized that the tree is much smaller than we used to have. In Michigan, our family room had a high ceiling, allowing for thirteen foot trees. This year, the tree is not much taller than the giant mutant beanstalks I call brothers. So maybe we won't hide a pickle. But I'll still get a kick out of seeing the ornament.

- The Emotional Breakdown
It seems that every holiday, someone in my family has an emotional breakdown. Before the holiday is over, someone has run out of the room crying. Sometimes there's a fight. Sometimes it's completely irrational. At least one time it was alcohol-induced. A few years back on New Year's Eve we had a huge family blowout (and we were in Paris at the time... it was miserable), in which I think every one of us was screaming, crying, and verbally attacking the others. I've had a few Thanksgivings in the past where I was the insane one (the relative I was named after died on Thanksgiving, and I've always wondered if I have a negative feel for it because of that. Also worth noting: she died after being hit by a car while crossing the street, which made me getting hit by a car especially terrifying for my mother). New Year's Eve is traditionally mine. I had more than one argument with my mother about why I wouldn't "toast with the family" (my family is big into social drinking, so I stopped drinking as a form of rebellion when I was younger), and someone ran to my room to drag me downstairs minutes before the ball dropped. But this year, it looks like I've got Christmas wrapped up.


May you feel at home for the holidays.

Much love,

~A~


P.S. The origin of the word "merry" was as meaning "blessed", not "joyous/happy/festive" as it has evolved to signify. So have a blessed holiday season (and know that I mean it as two syllables... bless-éd is so much more fun to say). After all, blessings are what the winter holidays are all about.

P.P.S. I had a dream last night about eating a salami sandwich and then feeling guilty about it. Do other vegetarians dream about meat? Or is it just me?