(Re-blogged from Thursday, December 27, 2007)
Ah,... it must be Christmas Eve in South Florida.
That happened the day before Christmas, directly in front of me as I was walking through a parking lot here in Fort Lauderdale. The woman, that the boorish gentleman was screaming at, did flip him a very lady like middle finger in return. I yelled ‘Merry Christmas’ to both of them and kept walking. Some people just can’t be nice for even one minute much less twenty four hours.
When I was a kid, Christmas eve was a very special and peaceful time. My dad had already had his annual Christmas season meltdown earlier, and now, with no more irritations or obligations, he could settle down and enjoy the evening. We kids would be sent up to bed, and my mom and dad would put on some seasonal music just loud enough to cover the sounds of ‘Santa’ delivering gifts downstairs. It was very comforting to lay in bed listening to that music, and wonder what was causing the noises down in the living room. Was that the sound of a bicycle being assembled, do I hear a train set being put under the tree?
Many years later, I have developed my own Christmas Eve customs, and Mark has his. Oddly enough they are not even remotely the same. At around nine PM, Mark leaves the house to go hang out with some of his disco friends and have a few drinks. I stay home and enjoy some silence for a few moments, then I pour myself a glass of wine and put ‘A Christmas Story’ into the DVD player. Ninety three minutes later I pour myself another glass of wine and begin the second half of my double feature, ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’. No matter how many times I watch that movie, I can’t not cry. I don’t mean cry at the end, because that’s when I’m sobbing, no I usually start tearing up in the first few minutes. Even though I don’t even believe in angels, it still gets to me every time.
That is the reason I don’t mind Mark going out without me on Christmas eve. I don’t think I’d enjoy the movies as much with him watching me cry.