I’ll Stay Home For Christmas

This morning I gathered up a big load of Christmas presents, put on my coat and mask and headed downstairs. My mom was waiting for me. We said hello, and then I proceeded to pile my bunch of gifts into her car. When that was done, I stood back as she unloaded several bags of Christmas and birthday presents from her trunk and put them as neatly as possible into the cart I had brought with me. We talked for a few minutes, said goodbye and went our separate ways. She hit the highway and I hit the hallway.

And that’s when it became real.

Carin and I have known for a while that things would be this way. We talked it over amongst ourselves and with our families weeks ago. But talking about it is quite a bit different than doing it. People talk about all sorts of things. Next time I see that guy, I’m going to give him a piece of my mind. If I could do it again, I would ask that girl to dance. You can talk about anything, no matter your actual intent. But this is different. There’s no going back now. There’s no day long journey out to the middle of nowhere or bus to Toronto to see Carin’s family. There’s no Uber to a couple towns away to see mine. It’s just us. Here. In the apartment.

Things could be worse, of course. We could have no one. We could be broke. We could be sick. We could be in a hospital. We could be dead. All things considered, I’m fine with this. There are worse things in the world than waking up with someone you love, giving them a present or two and then deciding if your Christmas dinner is going to be chicken or steak. No, we certainly aren’t hurting. But things being fine doesn’t make them not weird, and it certainly doesn’t stop them from being sad.

Christmas with nobody but your immediate household is nobody’s idea of Christmas, but this year, that’s what we’re getting. For us, it’s necessary. We don’t have the luxury of repeatedly tempting fate to find out whether or not COVID is a hoax that so many others seem to think they have. What a thoughtless, selfish luxury, by the way. If we do too much fate tempting, there’s a decent chance that at least one of us might not see another Christmas. Maybe everything would be fine, but why find out? It’s only one Christmas. We’re adults. We can handle it. We can appreciate what we have, what we’re missing and what we’re going to get back once this is all over. It’s going to be ok.

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  1. I hear you about how weird it is. Although, for reasons that are between you guys and me, this actually benefits me this year. However, I know that it sucks for you to to not be able to see your families. If it is any consolation, the gang are having drinks on Christmas Eve on TeamTalk, so hopefully you guys can join us for some beers. Apparently Allen has found an amazing craft beer place that he is freaking out about and is going to send me a bunch of delightful beer. So maybe we can virtually have beers together if that is any consolation whatsoever. Have hugs. oh and for Christmas, I am getting you your very own personal Mongolian throat singer, because I love you.

    1. Sounds like fun times.  I imagine that even if we cant stay long, we’ll be able to pop in for a beverage or 2.  I’m considering buying myself some of the new version of StoneHammer as either a birthday or Christmas present.  I still haven’t tried it.

      It looks like we’re at least going to get video time with the families.  Carin’s mom and dad went and got themselves a webcam and everything.  They’re trying to figure out Zoom.  Should be fun.

      Oh, and make sure you keep the receipt for that throat singer, hahaha.

  2. Mom was asking me questions about Zoom the other day and when I said I was going to test something, she responded with “Are you going to Zoom us?” I’m pretty sure I could feel the excitement through the text. I’m sure we could pop in for a virtual brew.

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