Pretense Served With Materialism And A Sprinkle Of Joy

Evolve Winter Competition

I was going to start with the old cliché that Christmas is the most favorite time of the year, but then that would not be true. At least not for me.

I wanted to write about joy and happiness at this time of year. Cookie-scented candles, joyous jingles, and colorfully decorated homes. But that wouldn’t feel true to me.

I don’t know why or when these feelings happened. I didn’t even know I had turned into this scrooge-like character.

I do know that it wasn’t always this way.

As a child, I loved Christmas after all there were new toys. New Clothes. Pigs in blankets. And everyone pretended to be happy.

When I had my children, I tried to make it magical for them too.

I continued the pretense.

We’d set up the tree with the obligatory child-made decorations.

You know the misshapen, scrunched-up ones that come home from school. The ones the teacher hands over with a smirk on their face trying to hide their delight. Knowing they have achieved full marks in messing up your decoration theme that year.

We’d even put out the carrot for the reindeer, a mince pie, and a glass of small sherry to help old Santa along the way.

When they were tucked in bed. I would design fake footsteps with flour leading to their stockings.

Yes, those were the fun days when they squealed in delight when they woke on Christmas morning.

I loved Christmas then. So when did it change?

It was first pointed out to me, several years ago when I hadn’t put up my Christmas tree, with just a few days to go to before the festive occasion.

A tree to me by then had become the mess dragging it in.

The fuss of getting it up.

Bother of taking it down. And all for what?

You see, my children were by now grown up.

I often did not spend Christmas at home.

There was no need to do all the things that brought the earlier small joys.

So how did this misery figure start to creep in?

Frankly, between you and me, it was all the extra gift shopping that played its part.

Now don’t get me wrong, I like spoiling and giving a gift to those in my circle of love.

But at Christmas time gift buying has become, well so materialistic. I know that’s not a new concept. We all know it. Yet, we all still do it.

Gifts that will often leave me over my budget. I know I should have planned for this event, after all, I have had 12 months’ notice.

Somehow those months creep up on me like a silent Santa to find there is no Christmas fund.

Those could be the reasons why I don’t care for Christmas time much and find myself thankful once it is over.

Maybe you can convince me otherwise.

Maybe I will change now that I am a grandparent.

Maybe my joy will come back to Christmas when my grandchildren are a bit older and can add the magic back into the occasion.

Then I can pretend to be joyous when I give them toys that they don’t need and which has left me with a gaping hole in my bank account.

But it costs me nothing to wish you well at this time of year, so I extend that to all that read this piece.

I leave you with my final feeling, at least we get a holiday and that is something I am joyful about. (See, I’m not such a miser after all).