A Blue Christmas

I never thought I would say this, but after several years of ample evidence, I am compelled to come clean.

My name is Soleil and I get depressed around Christmas time.

I know. I bet you were like me, thinking that the only people who are sad at Christmas are pathetic, lonely people whose parents beat them as children or who have Gremlins-type memories of parents disappearing only to be found in the chimney. Holiday depression should come from bad things, things that inspire horrible memories.

Well, I can tell you that the exact opposite is also true. My childhood Christmases were some of the best anyone has ever had. Christmas was a season of peace and love, when everyone in the house did their best to remain calm and joyous. Sharing and caring, everyday occurances, appeared ten-fold amongst siblings and parents alike. There were books to be shared and ornaments to be hung and traditions around every corner. Although I am sure they were there, I can't think of a single bad Christmas memory. And I think that is the problem.

These days Christmas is different for me. For one thing, it is 60+ degrees outside with bright sunshine and nary a snowflake to be seen. For another, I know that I will be required to pack a bag and travel to a distant house to wake up in a strange bed on Christmas morning. While this is not the worst thing in the world...it does add a thin varnish of "company manners" over my holiday when what I really want is to be albe to skip brushing my hair and getting dressed, getting right to the monkey bread and new novels. Worst of all is the absence of tradition. At least the traditions that hold such prevelant places in my mind. The hunt for the tree, the Poinsetta Punch, the homemade eggnog and toffee. The reading of The Nutcracker as the music of the Sugarplum Fairy plays in the background. Mom's piano carols. The draping of my brother in blue lights that so perfectly match his hair. The fireplace. The togetherness. The CHRISTMAS of it all.

The problem is that the key members of those memories are spreading to the wind. My parents are split up. My siblings are growing and moving and marrying. I am stuck in a pattern of summer visits and winter separations. The things that once made the Christmas season what it was are not only missing from my day, but they are no longer happening at all. I'm sure that each household carries on the bits and pieces that are most important to them, but the whole of it is gone.

I have tried to convince myself that I am making my own traditions, but it is hard to do that in the shadow of perfection. My decorations are quite as memorable. My cds don't have quite the right versions of the songs. Our plans aren't quite what I am wishing for. Consequently, I end up cranky and irritable and sad during a time when all I want is peace, calm, and joy.

I guess I am slowing coming to terms with it. After all, admitting that there is a problem is the first step to solving it, right? So, I will continue to search for my own traditions to replace those that have drifted away. But it will never be the same. And sometimes what I really want is for everything to just be the same.