Tuesday, November 22, 2011

let it snow let it snow let it snow

Weather seems to be part of Christmas. Well, truthfully, weather is part of all of life. In the south here, the word 'weather' is used to mean WEATHER. A tornado is weather. A sunny day is not. So, I wonder if we are going to have 'weather' this Christmas.

I am well known as a snow hater. I routinely tell my husband that all the snow I need I can get on a calendar. But there is still something about snow at Christmas. I would actually, secretly, selfishly love a heavy snowfall on Christmas eve and Christmas day ... and then have it melt on the 2nd of January. Weather to order, at my whim.

Snow was part of my Christmas experience as a kid. One particular Christmas memory is going out to help my brother and sister deliver the newspapers before we could open gifts. I remember the scrunch scrunch of walking through fresh snow in my boots, my nose cold and my heart excited.

Recently I have learned that Christmas can happen in the rain, in the sunshine, in the warmth, and even in heat. But for me it is not quite the same. Not quite festive.

This confirms what I know about life - that it is the repeated small things that make us feel secure, warm our hearts and help us belong to our own life. I remember a lot about weather. Gifts? I hardly remember a one... except for a round cardboard Barbie doll case with a silver clasp and a plastic handle. That was something.


Karen said...

Marilyn, you ae so right tht it is the repeated small things that make us feel secure and at home in our own lives. That resonates so much with me. I have so many little things that give me pleasure, and I've discovered, secretly bring pleasure to my children and my husband. This year, for the first time ever, we are all going somewhere hot for Christmas. The six of us will travel to Punta Cana to a beautiful resort and spend Christmas there. That means there will be no decorating or cooking or presents at my house. Totally okay with that. Do you know what I can't give up? Pyjamas on Christmas Eve. I will carry new pyjamas for the kids in my suitcase, and call them to my room on Christmas Eve and let them open a new pair. We've done it for years and I cannot let it go. No snow? No problem. But please, let me have new pjs.

Krissi said...

The only Christmas gift I really remember is the Barbie ice cream shop my grandmother got me when I was maybe 7 or 8. There was a distinctive smell to the rubber tile-patterned mat that was the floor. And the winter a few years ago when the ice storm came through Kentucky--the sound the trees made as they creaked and swayed under the weight of the ice was the same sound the clear plastic wrap made when I pulled each piece out of it. It was such a random and bizarre correlation. I was so excited about that gift. And it wasn't just an ice cream shop. It doubled as an ice cream maker and Barbie's ice cream shop chairs were the ice cream dishes you ate from.

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