I think only the appearance of grandchildren will cement into place a sturdy organization of generations- we'll be the parents, little kids will be little kids, and my parents can be grandparents and get old. It seems suitable that grandparents be old. But for now, my mom and dad are just my mom and dad, nothing else, and when I stop and realize that they're aging, not suspended in time like flies in amber, as they should be, and how one day we'll be celebrating Christmas without them, well, that's just not what I signed up for.
Being home is so wonderful, but thoughts like this drift through my head all day long like passing snow flurries, and make me feel a certain sharp anxiety that is much more muted during my normal life. In addition, my dad is going through an intense phase of Anglophilia, and every night he tries to get us to watch British comedies, and my mom refuses, and the whole family erupts in an argument that leaves dad acting all wounded and everyone else on edge, except for David, who, from his place on the couch, seems to float above it all.
Such are the holidays.
But mostly, it's books and sledding and cousins. It's an entire extended family wearing Darn Tough Vermont socks, tromping through the woods and drinking champagne around 5ish. It's endless bananagrams, maple syrup bottles in the stockings, cherry juice and Cabot Cheddar and that certain joy that comes from watching short legged dogs try and hop through deep snow.
But this Christmas has come to an end and tomorrow morning we strike for home. Leaving is always wretched, like that terrible moment when you declare your hot bath has run its course and you have to get out of the tub, shivering inside your towel in the freezing cold house. Only one hundred times worse.
But there's some relief that comes along with it, because deep inside you know you can't live forever in the bath, alone and peaceful in the steam. Eventually you have to return to your real life and get back to Getting Things Done.
That's where I'm at now. The last night in the warm house in the deep snow, itching to get back to my life and wanting to stay here forever.
Congratulations Jess! I agree that the best route to Hygge is to decline any invitations, and dive under the covers with some books and movies. And yes, coziness is next to godliness for sure! Please email firstname.lastname@example.org and I'll get your mystery prize in the mail.
Now, I'll be driving from Ithica to Asheville all day on Monday, but I'll see you here very soon. Merry Christmas everyone, and to those who suffer from the post Christmas depression, best of luck, I'm right there with you. Feel free to reach out.