Hello Christmas, it's me again
Christmas, I can’t quit you. I feel like I’m a wild animal that you raised. When I was still a pup, you tossed me outside and yelled, “Go’on, git!” And even though it hurt so much, I still keep visiting you once a year. Because it was so cozy in your magical, snowy chalet and I can’t stop believing it could be that way again.
I’m no longer a Christian, but Baby Jesus is all over my playlist. How could a baby be wrong, right? It was before He got hurt, it was before people caused hurt in His name. It’s a story about joy and hope. I can get behind that.
Still, it’s a rationalization that gets harder to construct every year. I’m learning to play “Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays” by NSYNC for a gig at a holiday craft fair. I changed the lyric “God sends you His love,” to “I send you my love.” I wouldn’t want someone to get the wrong idea about me, you know?
Still, I’m not about to take the “Christ” out of Christmas. It still sounds right: “Chris” like crisp, like crisp winter air, then “st” bringing things to a point like the peak of a dollop of whipped cream and then “mas” jingling like the sleigh bells on the doorknob of a Bavarian toymaker.