christmas has always made me reflective. as a child i spent every waking hour of cold, long decembers dreaming of what i'd find under my twinkling family tree, until i laid down my head on the 24th to find nothing but blank melancholy. i spent the night staring into the dark, counting the minutes pass away as excitement faded into dread, and when the dawn finally broke, i would gaze at my mother's bedroom door with nothing but apathy, waiting. i wondered what was wrong with me; what child is dull and cold on christmas morning? i've since discovered that i am very sensitive to emotions of any kind and my own can change very rapidly, with little known cause. christmastime heightens this malformity in my faculties.
in more recent years, i have spent the weeks before christmas thinking of my family, and the world, in a way. this will sound immensely silly, but this year i've been listening to john denver & the muppets: a christmas together, and spilling a lot of tears. my mom has played this album during christmas since i was very young. and, though i'm not religious, i am forced to think about christ. i feel a kind of wrench in my chest when picturing that small, holy manger, and in turn, mary looking down at him with tired eyes. luke 2:18-19- "and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them. but mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart." i imagine her peering down at jesus and pondering, in her heart, who he might grow to be. we can only assume that his birth changed her. denver's song from the aforementioned album, a baby just like you, likened the infant christ to his adopted son. my mother used to sing along to this song and replace his name with mine. you've given back my joy in life, and filled me with new meaning. it used to make me uncomfortable; her drawing attention to me made me shirk away and shut my eyes. now, i am unsure how to feel, worried that i cannot give her new meaning as time progresses.
it stretches back farther than my mother. i have not seen my grandparents for christmas in several years. this is due to the excruciating tension that occurs when my mother sees her parents. they will tell her to believe in God, and she will refuse. i don't want money, or gifts from them. i'm not even sure if i want to see them; i don't know if they will ever know me for who i truly am, and i am too afraid to tell them. but i miss the lights on the big maple tree. i miss my grandfather's vast hands playing "christmas dinner" by candlelight, while snow falls softly out the window. i miss my grandmother's apple pie and her harsh laugh and her stubbornness that she gave to her daughter. i don't know if the pain of being unknown to them is worse than their absence. should i endure it? watch the cheeriness on their faces from another place, cold and distant, knowing they are seeing a daughter i will never be? i know that i will, if i have to. the fear of their rejection is far stronger. how can i ever tell them what i am, when i know they see it as a mistake, another malformity i am all too aware of. i'm not as afraid as i once was. i am happy in my life as a man, even if it goes ignored by my mother. but there is a heavy shadow i do not think i can shake, unless i am true to myself. it says, notice me. i'm here. i am real.
very little of this has to do with the real celebration of christmas. i am painfully aware of my human condition and my habit of falling in love with everything life shows me. this time brings me excitement, still, but fear, too. i suppose they are one and the same, in the body. it's a time when love is the truest thing of all, the self doesn't matter, only the world and the people around you. and if you haven't heard it yet, listen to the christmas wish for me. i've been thinking about it this whole time. if you believe in love, that will be more than enough...
note: i sat down to write down a few thoughts and accidentally wrote 900 words, i haven't proofread, whatever! listen to this album i promise it'll change your freaking life
