the story of the christmas calendar

me, the calendar, and carter, my neighbor

To me, nothing is better than the Christmas season. Christmas isn’t specifically my favorite holiday (Easter is), but the days between Thanksgiving and New Year’s are so wonderful, no other word but jolly can describe them. The way the whole world decorates, the parking lot to Target has the bells or doves attached to light posts, Christmas tree lots pop up on every corner, Starbucks has those wonderful cups, and there is always that radio in every town that plays Christmas music 24/7 for the entire period. There’s the candy, the lights, the smells. The winter chill, the desire to wear green and red together. People really are happier. I’m convinced.

Being away from all of that this year is really hard. It just doesn’t seem like Christmas is coming. There are no carols, no red and green everywhere, no wool sweaters and flannel (I’m totally obsessed with flannel). I can’t see my breath in the morning or dread going to the mall on Saturdays. Traffic isn’t worse because everyone is out, and no one is standing in front of the grocery store ringing a bell (as annoying as you think that is, just wait until there is a year without it, you may miss it!).

This year, it will all be different.

This year will be my first Christmas away from home. Ever.

It’s not unusual for my family to drop down to four instead of five on Christmas. As a military brat there have been Christmas’ where my Dad has been away, on some ship, floating about the Mediterranean. Which brings me to my point (besides remembering all those wonderful tidbits about season). When my Dad was away for Christmas my Mom would send him a calendar. This would be a big December calendar that was once a white sheet. She’d cut it to size and create this wonderful anecdotal calendar. The days would be full of pictures, sayings, quotes, stickers, and drawings. My brother, sister and I would get our own day to do with it whatever we wanted. It was a way to have our memories sent to him, to have him be with us and provide a really big piece of decoration. I remember sitting on the floor of a spare room one year, the sheet in front of us, watching my mom draw the lines to create the weeks and days. I remember thinking it was so funny as she drew a thought bubble on the 27^th and wrote, “Can I take the tree down yet?” (She was always wanting to take down the Christmas decorations within days of the holiday, and we always pushed her to keep it all up until AT LEAST New Years.) It was a tradition. It made Dad being gone not seem so scary because he was going to be a part of our Christmas no matter what.

Well, yesterday, I got my first calendar.

I nearly cried. If I wasn’t in front of my neighbors telling them the story of the calendar, I just might have. It’s beautiful. My Mom obviously spent a ton of time on it. It’s full of quotes, stickers, pictures, all the things I remember the calendar being. I looked at it for a long time, dissecting every inch of it, thinking of my Mom pouring over the type of the fonts, the pictures she was going to choose, the order it was all going to go in. She would say that I am the creative one, but this is truly a work of art and looks wonderful. I may be convinced to never take it down! Now I just have to think of a way to hang it (it’s actually kind of heavy) otherwise I’ll drape it over the couch or something. And then, in my pack rat ways, I will keep it forever.

Thank you Mom and family for the calendar. Thank you for thinking of me, for making sure I got it so soon, for loving me through this. Even though we may not be together for the holidays, I think of you all the time, and can’t wait until next year when we are together again and we can argue over football, how often A Christmas Story really needs to be played, the legitimacy of Lifetime Christmas movies, the lines at Wal-Mart, the calories in Stella Dore cookies, the amount of caffeine I can consume in vanilla lattes.

But for now, thanks. You are one in a million.