Tis my season

"I just like to smile.  Smiling's my favorite."  -  Elf, The Movie

     When I was about nine years old and it was Christmas Eve day. I was so excited and over-whelmed for Christmas to come.  I believe I drove my mother crazy about wanting to open all of the gifts that were under the tree.  I was in fact relentless.  As I sat in my father's chair trying to calm myself down, Mom walked into the living room with one small gift that was neatly wrapped and handed it to me.  "Here Claude, this should tide you over until tomorrow morning."  I wiped a few left over tears from my eyes and opened up the gift.  It was my first journal/diary with a hot pink vinyl cover.  It had a lock on it too.  I was in heaven. Elated.  I immediately grabbed a pen and spent the entire rest of the afternoon writing.

     I learned at an early age the importance of writing.  I was or least my family thought I was, very good at it.  I would write silly stories and my sisters would take them to school and show their friends.  Writing was my release of anxiety.  Writing was my proclamation of my hopes for a great love in my life and happiness.  I don't exactly remember what I wrote that day and sadly the hot pink journal is forever gone but what I do know is that writing made me happy.  Writing created a safety zone for all of the angst and pain of growing up and as I grow older, it's provided me a way to appreciate what I have been given and to lament and plan what I needed to change.

     Christmas always makes me smile and I think it's because, when I was a kid I always got presents that seemed tailored to my personality.  Mom always said I was born a chatterbox so one year I got a talking monkey by Mattel called "Chester-O Chimp."  God I loved him. He went everywhere with me.  From him came another talking toy "Baby Secret."  I learned I could talk and talk and talk and well, try to keep a secret or two.  At least I tried.  Then one year, I was given my very own tape-recorder.  I used that tape-recorder a lot.  At times much to my family's chagrin.  

     When I got to college, and entered journalism school, I was given my very own Smith-Corona typewriter and a Canon AE-1 camera.  My tools.  My my sanity.  I remember feeling as though that each time I turned that typewriter on, my life had meaning. I learned to appreciate other people's writing.  I learned to love theater. I learned to love musicals, and other playwrights.  I loved Shakespeare.

    I have been on the receiving end of many gifts through the years.  One, I wear on my left hand.  It's a gift that requires me to give of myself and has taught me patience and has toughened me. It reminds me that sometimes when we want to give up and take the easy way out, we need to breath.  When we don't, we lose. 

   Christmas has gotten quieter over the years but it still makes me smile to think of all of the Christmas "firsts."  This year I am reminded that the best presents can be wrapped and handed us but the even better ones are the ones we give to ourselves in terms of our own health and wellness.  Those are the gifts that keep on giving.  This year, my gifts are the quiet, peaceful moments of thought that I am taking for myself and some time to cover the grays in my hair.  To look in the mirror and appreciate the history...

     So smile.  It's Christmas time!  What lies ahead is not in our control but let love be our driving force.    I smile and I well up in tears this time of year.