"Paul?" Mum whispers on the other side of the door. "Are you up? It's Christmas."
"Okay," I mumble. "I'll be down soon."
It seems like only yesterday that I was the first one up on Christmas morning. That I was the one waking them up. I wouldn't have imagined dragging myself out of bed to open presents. Having them get me up.
I no longer live here but Mum asked me to stay the night. She didn't say so but I'm guessing she doesn't like the idea of me waking up on Christmas morning in my apartment all alone.
I dress and go to the bathroom before going downstairs. I deliberately look away from the living room so I won't be confronted with presents. Even at the age of twenty-four, I'd rather not spoil the surprise.
I give Mum a hug and wish my parents a Merry Christmas. The coffee is on so I help myself to a cup. Dad is reading and doesn't seem to be in any hurry to get to the presents — and neither am I.
We empty our stockings and I am quite pleased with the booty. No one fills a stocking like my dad and he's managed to outdo himself this year. He found all my favourite British chocolates and there's a good-sized bottle of pale ale from Ontario that I've never heard of but which is sure to be delicious.
We get to opening presents and I begin to feel a bit down. I'm not disappointed by anything but my mind is distracted by the mess I've made of my life. My apartment is way too expensive and I don't earn nearly enough to afford it. I can't stand my job and I always come home exhausted, not wanting to do anything but veg in front of the TV every night. All I've ever wanted to do is write but I never do any. I want to take a trip somewhere but I don't have the money, I don't have the time and I can't decide where to go. I recently got dumped over the phone by a girl who doesn't respect me, shattering the little confidence I had left. All my friends seem to be going places and what the hell have I been doing? And all of this might be fine if not for the fact that I can't imagine a way out. I'm going to be poor, lonely and miserable for the rest of my life.
No wonder I can't muster up much enthusiasm for the grilled-cheese sandwich maker from Grandma Betty.
~~~~~
After breakfast, I shower and get dressed into some nicer clothes. I flick through the the copy of On Equilibrium by John Ralston Saul from my uncle Dave. He always picks out good books that I'd never choose for myself and I'm certain to enjoy this one but I'm not in much of a mood start in on it today.
I ask mum if she needs some help with Christmas dinner but it's too early to be of much help. She gets much of the meal out of the way the night before so she's hardly stressed. She suggests I put on some music.
I go to the living room and flip through the half-dozen Christmas CD's but I already know which one I'll be putting on: Solitudes Christmas Classics. It's been a favourite of mine ever since she bought it about a decade ago, though I wouldn't say so to anyone outside of our household. New age relaxation music is for yuppies, not someone like me.
Going back to my book, I read a couple pages, while tuning out Delibes' "Pizzicato". "Skater's Waltz", the second track, gets my attention as I remember going skating at Bowness Park on Christmas afternoon in 1985. The frozen lagoon was almost always crowded but on that day we practically had it all to ourselves. I long for Christmases that were that much fun.
Lounging on the couch, I begin to stare at the Christmas tree. "Dance of the Reed Flutes" comes on I turn to look out the window. There are still the remnants of snow on the ground which qualifies as a white Christmas in my mind. Not that it matters much.
The next door neighbours walk their friendly German shepherd past our house and I smile a bit. The lightness of the music is beginning to put me in a more positive frame of mind. I happen to know that it's from The Nutcracker but I couldn't tell you when it's featured. My mind thinks back to seven years earlier when I went to see the holiday ballet with my then-girlfriend. I remember feeling aspirational back then and try to imagine what I might need to do to feel that way again. I'm relying, I realise, on girlfriends to validate me and I have to figure out how to get that way without them.
The song lulls me daydreaming and I soon find myself tapping my feet to the synthesized reed flutes. Worries should be shut off for the rest of the day. It's Christmas, there's a turkey slowly cooking in the oven and my folks still believe in me. Maybe that's enough for today. Time to eat too much, drink too much and let the love affair with Christmas come back.
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