Listening to "Once Upon a Time" by Idina Menzel wondering "What is it about this time of year?" Traditions reign supreme. It's hectic and insane. People who dislike it are referred to as "Scrooge" or "the Grinch." But if you think about it, there's probably sanity in that decision.
Unless you don't mind the same songs, the same colors, the same decorations, the same overloaded schedule year after year you have good reason to dislike Christmas. I for one love this time of year. I live in Colorado Springs in the shadow of the Rocky Mountains so normally around this time bipolar Colorado dumps buckets of snow on us only to take it away within the next few days. I for one hate the cold/snow so this works for me. But this year it's different. It's 60 degrees outside and Christmas is four days away. It drives me nuts. That plus the last minute shopping, overload of sweets, vacationing best friends and same TV specials have annoyed me to the point of referring to members of my family as Mrs. Nesbitt. I think it's fair to say that I've lost all sanity I once was proud to say I owned.
My little brother on the other hand has taken a bigger interest in Christmas than he has any of his past six Christmases. He has poured hours of his time into making us gifts with nothing but a few Sharpies, a stack of paper, a roll of tape and a stapler. He has much more Christmas spirit than I do.
I can't really figure out why I'm not into it this year. It's not that I don't like Christmas. I understand why some people don't but I love it. But as I write this the truth is becoming more and more obvious.
I'm growing up.
When I was a child I was a very Peter Pan like character. I was convinced I'd never get old. I'm a writer so I'm one of the few people who can spend their free time in holey jeans playing with imaginary friends. But as much as I try to avoid it I have to accept the fact that age is an inescapable thing of life. Even as a kid though I didn't think I would grow up, I looked forward to adulthood. I could eat what I wanted. I could get paid to write. Growing up was a grand conquest.
But now that it's happening I'm torn between not wanting it to, and thinking it's not happening fast enough. I'm fifteen years old and a sophomore in high school. I'll get my permit in January. I'll get a million more privileges in July when I turn sixteen. I'll be an upperclassman in the Fall. I'll graduate in two years, then go to college, buy a car, try to get published and start a family.
The thought is terrifying.
I guess I just don't appreciate Christmas the way I used to. I don't invent crazy schemes to find out what my gifts are before I open them. I don't wake up at 6:30 so I can open them. I don't go out of my way to get Mom to bake cookies. Now I like to be surprised, I don't get up until at least 8:30 (and that's if someone wakes me up), and I don't really like gingerbread cookies.
The only thing I can really do now is appreciate Christmas while it's still mine. In a few years I'll be making Christmas happen for my own kids. I'm not a kid anymore. I need to both accept that and enjoy my last few years under the Segovia family roof.
And so fellow bloggers, I wish you a very Merry Christmas and a great time as a child or time with your own. Just remember the one Child who started it all.