1984-Present

I used to believe in the magic of Christmas.

Now it's just another day off work.

I used to enjoy the hustle and bustle of the holiday. I used to love being around people and seeing little kids dressed all fancy for their pictures with Santa. I'd look forward to feeling that there was warmth in the air even when the temperature was freezing. I forgot that I was fat and ate every tiny little morsel that was colored red or green and covered in frosting.

Now I watch people, especially shoppers in my store and look out for potential shoplifters.  When I see little kids, I wonder if someone has already told them that Santa isn't real. I wear a scarf, a nice warm coat and still I feel cold. There is no warmth. I remember I'm fat and I eat every tiny little morsel that's colored red or green and covered in frosting.

What was it that killed it for me?

I don't know.

I've been asked by several people. It would be easy to say it was because Mom wasn't here. Or that Grandma wasn't here or that I was without a man in my life. But it's not any of those things. Mom and Grandma haven't been here before-I've been alone before. I actually like who I am and how things are going so it's not even a bout of self loathing. I just....am over it.

Working retail during the holidays is hard and I've heard people say that before. I didn't really know what it meant but this was my 4th time around and I get it now. It's different for everyone-the holidays. Not just how they celebrate but how people are affected. Some love it-it's their favorite holiday. Some hate it and they'll be Grinch-y any chance they get and to anyone. Some are inconvenienced with closed shops and no mail delivery. Some start with Black Friday, still digesting turkey.

Christmas has held a bit of darkness over my family since I was a child. My grandfather died on Christmas Eve from brain cancer in 1984. I was still pretty young, only 4.

The phone rang while we were opening presents. Next thing I know we're in the car on our way to grandma's house, just like the little song. But no one was singing. It was very quiet and my dad was driving very fast.

When we got there, men in fireman's uniforms were milling about. There was an ambulance in the front yard, it's red light spinning, siren silent. We walked up the sidewalk behind two men with a stretcher.

My grandfather had been sick for a long time. He had a hospital bed in the living room and it was there as it had been for as long as I could remember. This time his smiling face was not at the end of the white sheet. It went all the way over his eyes, outlining his shape.

I remember asking my grandmother if I could see him and the look on her face when I did. A mix of horror and fascination and pride-she told me years later she'd been in awe of my childlike curiosity.  For that's all it was. For some reason I had to look under that sheet. But they didn't let me. Instead my mother cried with her and I was ignored for the moment.

My grandparent's house had many rooms. My favorite room was a tiny alcove off the kitchen. A window of blue and red stained glass used to paint colored shadows on the hardwood. There was a bird feeder just outside the window and grandma used to let me smear peanut butter and seeds on the ledge to attract finches.  It was at this window where my grandmother found me.

She asked me if I knew what had happened and I said I did. She asked me if I knew where grandpa had gone and I said, 'Heaven', like I was supposed to. I didn't really know what 'Heaven' meant except that it wasn't here anymore. The house already felt different without grandpa in it.

I remember watching the firemen from the staircase in the hall. They walked about the house, their boots stomping like cannons. They seemed so huge to me-like giants and I was scared of them more that the body under the sheet in the living room.

I remember telling my grandmother that she would love again someday.  I remember having nightmares for years after that night about giants in white doctor jackets chasing me through big empty houses. I remember that every Christmas Eve my mom looked a little sadder.

But I remember falling back in love with Christmas. I remember being told stories of Santa and his Elves and looking forward to seeing Rudolph on TV. I remember getting my picture taken at Frederick and Nelsen's- back when there was such a department store. I remember going to see the Nutcracker for the first time with my best girlfriends and starting a tradition.  I remember taking turns picking out a tree with mom and dad-rotating every year but never really remembering whose turn it was. I remember the joy and the magic of possibilities, of wishes coming true.

But not this year.

I didn't have warm fuzzy feelings. I didn't have scary dreams or sad feelings about a loved one that's no longer here either. I just worked. I worked every day leading up to Christmas and the day after it. If I felt myself getting Grinch-y, I took a moment to readjust my Retail Face-to be happy and positive for my staff.

On Christmas Eve I gave a woman with lung cancer an angel snow globe. I held the hand of the woman's son and let him cry before we rode in the car home-pointing out brightly lit houses to avoid the sad silence. My dad and uncle came over Christmas Day and we watched Blue Planet because there was no football on. I showed my dad how to use his phone and ate entirely too much chocolate. I slept and caught up on the first season of Game of Thrones.

It wasn't until today that I felt a little sad about it.

Talking with a friend or answering a customer's polite query about how my holiday was-the answer is always the same. "Nice, thank you. Quiet. And yours?"

I've Been a Good Girl

It's that time of year again Fat Man. I have a list for you. Before you hop on your reindeer pulled contraption maybe you'll take a minute to actually read my requests. You'll have to pardon my shortness but you haven't exactly come through for me the last few years have you?

I won't mention the lack of world peace or additional dollars to my bank account.

I'm not a materialistic person. I don't NEED anything. But if Commericalmas has taught me anything, it's that I should be given expensive things this time of year and so it's with that in mind that I present to you:

       DA LIST

• I want an iThing. I don't even really care which one. iPhone, iPad, iRobot....whatever. I want what all the other kids have. 
• I want a ridiculously large television. Something so obnoxiously large my friends ask me if I'm overcompensating for my small penis. 
• I'd like a dresser that doesn't resemble something from a Dr. Suess book. *I tried to move it with a giant ancient television that weighs a ton and the weak Ikea wood sort of.....bent. 
• I want every book, movie and album I want but don't already have. That in itself is a hefty list Fat Man. (see attached) 
• I want to travel to Europe. Does this request need to be directed to Pere Noel or some other foreign Santa? I want it to go to the right people.
• I want my dad to not have any bills. I want him to be well and happy and stress free. 
• I want to hire a maid to clean my house regularly. She/he has to be willing to clean cat shit boxes and occasional cat vomit stains off of light colored carpet as well as holding her own with giant dust bunnies and random debris. Laundry skills are a plus. 
• I want a car, insurance, and a license. 
• I want to take all of my friends out-ALL of them-at the same time to a giant dinner with anything they want to eat or drink. 
• I want to tell Elvis that there are a LOT of songs about him. You can get Elvis can't you Fat Man?
• I want to watch the news and for one day only good things be reported. 
• I want a dining room table so I can put more shit on it and never use it for actual dining. 
• I want new living room furniture-preferable a sofa that doesn't suck my ass, a chair that you can sit in without fear and a coffee table that doesn't look like a dining table for midgets. 
• I want the people that wander out in front of my store to find the help they need. 
• I want a set of sheets that I didn't buy with the ex-boyfriend. 
• I want to know how to sing, how to knit and how to play the piano. Oh, and speak Spanish. 
• I want a comfortable desk chair. Sitting here writing this to you shouldn't be painful for me. 
• I want a drag queen to make me over. 
• I want to be published and yeah, maybe a little famous. What? Don't give me any shit Fat Man-EVERYONE knows who you are. 

I can probably get some of these things myself.

I could learn how to play piano. I could get my license. I could maybe find a drag queen to make me over. But Commercialmas says that all I have to do is sit on your lap, whisper in your ear and tell you what I want. It says I deserve a new car, and a diamond ring and that I should drink something called 'egg nog'. What the hell is 'nog' anyway. Does it come from eggs?

Commercialmas also says I should  be nice to people that are holiday-stressed douchebags or I will receive a lump of coal in my stocking. First of all, who the hell wears stockings? If I felt like my last pair of clean socks were in danger of being soiled with...wait...doesn't coal eventually turn into a diamond?

Hmmm...Ok Santa.

If you give me Patience,  I'll take the coal and have fun while I'm waiting.