A Different Kind of Christmas…

“A Different Kind of Christmas”

The day started as most days do…
The rooster’s crow awakens me from my slumber.
I dress and move down the stairs in a half-wakened trance.
A “good-morning” to my friends as I pass by on my way to a much needed cup of coffee.
I’m half-way through brewing it before a thought strikes me.
“Uh, merry christmas guys.” I had nearly forgot.

How could this happen? Christmas is the time for cheer, and only comes but once a year. I should have been prepared.
Perhaps it’s the fact that I’m wearing shorts, and the temperature is 20 degrees above freezing. Maybe it’s the lack of decorations, and the lack of pine trees (indoor and out). The lack of gifts, or the lack of snow.
Something is off this Christmas, it’s not like the ones I used to know.

We needed some Christmas spirit, and nothing says Christmas like a yuletide feast.
“On dancer, on prancer, to the market we go.” (it’s your guess as to which one of us is prancer)
We’re on our way, our destination a mere two blocks away.
We didn’t make it… (at least not on first attempt)
Our plan was derailed, by what you say?
We collided, head on, with Christmas cheer.

Our neighbours of a few doors down were in a state of merriment. The palm tree was decked with flashing lights, and 10 men sat drinking beer in front of their home.
“Merry Christmas” They called to us.
“Merry Christmas” We replied.
Moments later they had brought us seats, and placed a beer in each of our hands.
“Mut, Hai, Ba, Yo!” and off we go.
We were welcomed like family (I think I may have been invited to actually join the family after being asked if I was single).
We feasted on Christmas delights; turkey, and goose, and spring rolls.
We sung Christmas songs (poorly), and consumed more beer than usual for a wednesday morning (much more).
It wasn’t long before we were rosy cheeked and thoroughly festive.
But alas, we had duties to attend to, a Christmas feast we must make (and we were quickly getting too drunk to make anything other than a toast).
We bid our farewells and gave our thanks. “Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good afternoon!”

We arrived at the market much later then planned (and much less sober).
We picked the items for our feast: potatoes and carrots, green beans, and some sort of white root vegetable that turned purple when cooked (purple mashed potatoes anyone?). We picked out the finest bird (a chicken, as turkey was not readily available). Ah, what a feast awaited us.
We arrived home and prepared our feast. We basted the chicken and put it in the oven (a large toaster oven), and waited patently for our imminent feast. We entertained ourselves with comedic Christmas specials (nothing says Christmas like Elvis Costello getting eaten by a bear).

The moment arrived…

Christmas Dinner
“Oh joy to our bellies, the food was delicious!”
We feasted a mighty feast. And ye, it was good. (I didn’t want to stop)
After such a feast (and many a Christmas beer) my compatriots soon retired to bed.
My hunger was satiated, the Christmas songs were sung, it seemed as though Christmas was complete.
And yet, something just didn’t feel quite right.
What was it I was missing?

And then it struck me.
Christmas doesn’t come from a store (or market), it’s something much more.
I knew what this day was missing, what had always been there before.
I now knew what Christmas was, what lay at it’s core.
My hand trembled as reached for my phone.
I hit all the digits, and ended with four
The line was a ringing, almost a jingling.
And that’s when I heard it, what I had been searching for.
“Merry Christmas Mom & Dad.”

That’s what had been missing.

Maybe this was a merry Christmas after all.

Namaste, and Merry Christmas!

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