It’s Christmas Eve. As much as I have been excited and at peace during this holiday season, I’ll admit I feel kind of lonely right now.
Kid 1 is in town with me. Initially, I told him we’d stay put on the 24th and hit the road on the 25th. He had been here for less than a day when he called his mom to see if we could all meet on the 26th instead. I’m actually extremely happy about that; it means he’ll be spending the actual holiday with me.
But the rest of the day feels quiet. Guillaume and his family are out of town and won’t be back until late tonight. While they invited us over for a drink, I’m not even sure they’ll be back at a decent hour. Because of the upheaval in the schedule, I didn’t get to see Veronica at all today. To be honest, she’s the one person I really wanted to see. Meanwhile, Kid 2 won’t be with me until the 27th. It stinks that the two siblings won’t see each other for Christmas this year, though I know the three of us will get together again sooner rather than later.
“I think what’s really stinging right now is the lack of tradition.”
I hate to admit it, but somewhere along the way, Guillaume’s home became the focal point of our holiday get-togethers. I don’t mind that—I truly enjoy their company—but without that anchor, our family feels a bit “tattered.” My mother is in assisted living, and we’ve reached the stage where the next generation needs to take the lead. I realize I need to have a plan in place for my own family. Kid 1 is 18 now; celebrations are naturally going to look different than they have in the past.
I’m trying to pitch this to myself as a “casual, carefree Christmas Eve,” but looking at the houses on my street filled with cars, I can’t help but feel the void. Veronica and I were talking earlier, and it hit me: I have to get better at planning further in advance. This isn’t just about missing her today; it’s about the whole “family Christmas” experience. If we aren’t at a big group gathering, I need to take it upon myself to say, “This is what we’re doing,” and stick to it.
Christmas is technically just two days—a few meals and some gifts. But when it’s so pervasive in our culture, it’s hard to ignore. I can usually shrug off Thanksgiving, but Christmas is a different monster. I honestly wonder how non-Christians deal with it. When every business closes, every station plays the music, and every movie is themed, can it ever really feel like “just another day” to anyone?
“I would have expected a Christmas Eve like this immediately after the old man passed. I didn’t think it would be ten years later before things would feel so… broken.”
To make matters worse, Kid 1 has been in bed sick all day. He’s been fighting something since before he arrived. Maybe, in one sense, it’s for the best that we didn’t have big plans.
I’m going to stop comparing my dark windows to the crowded driveways down the street. Tonight is just a sick kid, a quiet house, and a lot of reflection. It’s not a movie ending, but it’s the reality of this year. Here’s to better plans, better health, and a little more intentionality in the year to come.
Thanks for stopping by Rebuilding Rob. Be sure to like, 👍 comment, and subscribe to my blog below. It’s greatly appreciated! Also, feel free to follow me on social media as well! Check out my most recent posts as well as some earlier, related (and perhaps, not-so-related) posts:
- A Trekkie’s Christmas Wish: The Audacity of Human Potential
- Dark Windows and Crowded Driveways
- The Old Man and the 26 Copies of X-Men #1
- A Festivus for the Rest of Us: Finding Confidence in the Giving
- Going with the Flow (Without Getting the Shaft)
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The article “Dark Windows and Crowded Driveways” first appeared in Rebuilding Rob.
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