Jingle Bell Time It’s a Swell Time: Some Wishes

Dear God I mean Santa,

Well, here we are again. Not much to look at, is it, now that the snow is once more melting. Why you have to daunt us with fresh, lovely, white snow like this every time at the beginning of our relationship and not follow through when the hour is at hand is beyond me, but here it is.

I checked my little blue notebook today and realized I haven’t written down many wishes this year. I have been, lately, in the habit of just buying what I need or want, and this seems to lead to nothing to wish for when the Christmas Wish List is in the making. I do not like this trait about myself, and come New Year’s Eve, perhaps there is a resolution right there.

Peace on Earth is such a lousy wish and it has been done to death this year and last year and every year, so I won’t bother you with the impossible. White supremacists still a-swimming, Trump still a-laying, and the right-wing extremists in a pear tree. But thank you for granting us, so far, the major wish of no nuclear war.

Speaking of swimming, a bit of smoothness at that would be great next year. I know, it’s not you, it’s me, I am my own worst enemy when it comes to hysterics and becoming overwrought with emotion, but if there is a hand to be given, a finger, a nail, to ease the burden of a difficult disposition and constant sorrow, I’ll take it. Smooth swimming in gentle waves. But no dead calm, either. That is just eerie.

My parents are going through a rough transition now, moving from a house they lived in for forty years, my whole life until now, into a condo; from the country into not quite the city but from the millions of stars alight at night to a few dozen. I wish that, despite my rage and childish tantrums and general opposition throughout the whole moving process, their life will be bettered and made a little more enjoyable in their new home. I have uttered my doubts and reservations loud and clear, I have spoken my piece, and from now on, I shall forever hold my peace. As for my personal loss: I’ll live.

I wish for a better relationship with my sister. Stripping down and undoing the house has been extremely emotional for everyone involved, and not unlike distributing the inheritance after a death in the family. It has left us all raw and sensitive and angry and sad. Alas, we are not unlike every other family in the world when it comes to emotional content and baggage.

I haven’t been much of a godmother to my three godchildren. In fact, I think, in the words of Julia Roberts and Albert Finney, I suck at it. I also suck at giving appropriate gifts, not having children of my own. There has been a huge trend in the world for the past few years to give immaterial goods as Christmas presents, because no one really needs anything in these prêt-à-porter modern times of ours, so here are my wishes for them: some really cool sneakers for Yoni. Approaching adulthood, one needs the really cool sneakers to show independence and determination and to channel the fire to go forward. Nikes or Converses, please. Some really cool DIY kits and cool books for Ninny. Smart beyond her wee years, I think she would love a nutcracker or two to keep her occupied, while her parents take a load off after another rough year amid a huge remodeling going on in their home. And for little Bruno, I wish more than anything that his golden locks never straighten and that he’ll look like a gorgeous wacky cupid forever. This won’t happen, so a toy train for him. Say, a wooden, vintage toy train that used to belong to someone close to him, say, a godmother. Wait, did I say immaterial goods? Shucks.

Since we covered snow already, and as of yet, the ground seems to be anything but snow covered har-de-har, by the way thanks for the plus degrees yesterday after the snowstorm earlier this week, it really made the ground just slippery enough for carrying home the holiday sparkling wine bottles a true and unmistakable joy, I guess there is nothing else, weather-wise, that I long for. I went ahead and bought a small juniper bush, too, because the bags just weren’t heavy enough with just the fancy wine bottles and some presents, to decorate with my fabulous colorful Christmas lights, and since the clerk said I should water it if it stays indoors like I planned, I of course put up the lights first and only then tried watering the plant, very carefully, between the pretty twinkling stars. So I am guessing thank you for the not electrocuting me during my counterintuitive Christmas preparations. Also, I never once fell down with my enormous shopping bags, consisting of a small tree and six bottles of possibly explosive matter that could have easily sent me flying through the air, ruining lots of secret Santa stuff in the process, so I’m thinking thanks for the not going all Murphy’s Law on me.

But seriously, Santa, here’s a real wish. Give people back the magic this year. It is hard to try and keep it going alone, and what with the three henchmen, four letter bombs, five golden rings to destroy the world, the true meaning of this holiday sometimes escapes us all. Calm us the hell down. Whether we are religious celebrators, or secular, give us a few moments of peace and quiet this year. I think everyone of us should just pick up a book and read for a few hours, uninterrupted, while sipping delicious tea or wine or coffee or eggnog and eating piece after piece of that favorite chocolate of ours. Give us peace of mind, and the ability to see beyond the insults, the rude behavior, the pushing and shoving, whether it be ourselves or others that are doing the bad behaving. Whether we want to celebrate Christmas with the whole extended family, or by ourselves, let us have the magic moment. That one moment of yes, this is not too bad will take us a long way into the New Year. So, it isn’t a wish for world peace, but for head peace bed peace hair peace, like Mr. Lennon said.

Oh, and a bottle of that fragrance I told you about. Thank you!