Holiday consensus: "we're getting old."

When I sat down to delve into some Elie Wiesel this morning, chocolate labrador happily returned to my side, I had to pause in consideration of the sight in front of me: a very Christmasy, warm-and-fuzzy sort.


For as long as I can remember, my brother and I have been forced to patiently make our way through our stockings (always with a tangerine at the bottom, wedged into the red velvety toe) before tearing into the presents we were really interested in. Even before that, every day of December we'd race out to the homemade felt calendar to see what ornament we could pin to the tree sewn above the pockets, always ending with the star on December 24. 


As years went on and time and life played out, a stocking would be subtracted, then a wave of four new stockings one year as remarriage more than doubled the stocking count, bringing us to a grand total of seven. The December calendar still came out every year, though taking turns to put an ornament on the tree every day became more of a semi-forgotten and obligatory ritual than an exciting pathway to Christmas. Names on the aging stockings began to wear, ultimately redone in glitter glue along the furry white top of each.


This year's return for the holiday will be, I'm sure, one of the most eventful: one child is in the midst of wedding planning, one is on the verge of engagement, and it's just a waiting game for a third (which leaves me next in line - goodness gracious.). Drama of all sorts entwines the house and its original members, though its numbers have been cut save for holiday returns. In short, the half-joking phrase "we're getting old" has become a common one. Our conversations have morphed into wedding plans and engagement rings, home renovations or moving, or, from my end, gadding about from DC to West Africa to DC to, in the near future (hopefully), Denmark. ...This from the kids who used to sit on the floor in the midst of Nerd parties (because the idea of tea was nothing compared to the colored sugar water resulting from dumping Nerds candy into tiny plastic cups of water). Instead of spending my summer battling my brother in Duck Hunt, I'm jetting across the ocean while he wires houses, vaguely catching up with one another on holidays when not field tripping it to the local wineries to procure the necessary holiday survival kit.


If there's anything 2010 has drummed into my head, it's that life truly can be a peculiar creature... never quite sure where it'll land us. Here's hoping that, wherever we land, it's on our feet. Happy holidays from the mound of snow that is North East, Pennsylvania.