The smallest things can be special

I am ambivalent about Christmas. But I do enjoy the lights. I wish people would leave them up longer. Sure, recycle the tree and pack away the inflatable snowmen, Santas and reindeer. But we could use the lights for another few weeks in the winter darkness. My rule of thumb is to keep my lights up until the first weekday I get home from work in daylight. Even then, I do not take them down or put them away. I just unplug them or remove the batteries. But then, I live in a small apartment and my lights are all indoors so I do not have to fear the judgment of neighbors.

When I was a kid growing up in England, it was the custom to leave the Christmas decorations up until January 6 — the twelfth day of Christmas. Mind you, it was also not the custom to put up a tree at the end of November. It was not uncommon to wait until Christmas Eve to bring home the tree, so it was nice to enjoy the Christmas feeling well into January, even if most of the seasonal cheer was accounted for in one day. It was all gone in time to return to school, and killjoy teachers welcomed us back with the reminder that Christmas was over and it was time to get down to work.

The day after Christmas is a public holiday in the UK (Boxing Day) so, to British sensibilities, the idea of having to be back at your desk first thing on the morning of December 26 is a bit jarring (especially if your Christmas Day involves booze). Perhaps that is why some Americans are driving Christmas trees to recycling stations that very morning — if the holidays must be over, then we might as well clear out all manifestations of it. But then, given that the holidays start in November and last five weeks or more, probably many people are just glad to get back to normal, even if it means being at work the day after Christmas.

During my first Christmas season in the US, someone explained to me that Thanksgiving is the real holiday and Americans prefer to downplay Christmas. After visiting a shopping mall between Thanksgiving and Christmas, I would beg to differ. And after nine Christmases in a row working in retail, I would very much beg to differ. I think the main reason Americans might be half-hearted about Christmas is that it is on a different day each year and sometimes stranded in the middle of the week without a long weekend attached— unlike Thanksgiving which gives many people a four-day weekend that can be planned around.

For most of the last twenty-five years, I have spent Christmas alone. And it suits me fine. I am an introvert who enjoys life vicariously. For me, the joy of Christmas is having the darkness of my morning walk to work brightened by decorations; signs in bakeries encourage you to order your holiday pies early; bus drivers and mail carriers wearing Santa hats and reindeer antlers; and signs at the entrances to grocery stores reminding shoppers that they will be closed so that the staff can enjoy the holiday. Yes, I must admit that much of my enjoyment of Christmas is driven by gratitude at not having to endure the worst of it myself. You know that feeling when you are driving along an interstate highway and you see the traffic at a standstill in the other direction, and the tailback goes for miles, and you are so glad you are not in it. I feel the same when I look into a store the week before Christmas and see crowds and long lines that I do not have to be in.

It is Christmas Eve and I am writing this in the comfort of my apartment. There is heavy excavation going on nearby, and every now and then it is noisy. But there is no place I would rather be right now, certainly not working in a retail store or warehouse, as I was in 2010. It was a Friday, and both UPS and FedEx brought a lot of stuff to the warehouse I worked at. We were busy all day processing it. None of this merchandise, you realize, would be delivered to the stores until the day after Christmas. But there was still urgency because shopping does not stop until New Years. We managed to be done in time to leave at four-thirty, but there was a tense moment when the boss, seeing how quickly we had expedited the priority orders, started making noises about getting started on the spring merchandise that had arrived early. She backed down — and we got to leave on time.

That commute home was rather special. It was raining, just a light rain with no wind, enjoyable to walk in if wearing a raincoat. Rather than waiting for my usual bus, I got on the first going in my general direction. I wanted to get away as quickly as possible. As I walked out to the bus stop, I had half-expected to hear the sound of the boss calling my name and then to look around and see her waving paper at me. I had a long walk after getting off the bus but broke the trip at a coffee shop, from where I could watch the Christmas Eve traffic from a window seat. The rain made it comforting.

I set off for home in the rain. The walk is a little under two miles and mostly through a residential area, with the last stretch along the waterfront of West Seattle. It was just after six o’clock and people were already home. At most homes, the window blinds were open, and I got to see the gathering within. There were modest family dinners. And there were more formal affairs, with children dressed for church, probably in anticipation of Midnight Mass. But then I got down to the waterfront where some of the homes are big and impressive. There I saw people in evening wear — tuxedos and cocktail dresses and little boys in bow ties. Out on Puget Sound, a ferry was sailing across to Vashon island. I imagined the car decks full of cars, and the passenger decks swarming with excited children running around, and people loaded down with shopping bags. That was the scene that captivated me and I decided this was the right spot to enjoy the miniature of Yukon Jack I had in my purse. When I got home, I was more than ready to enjoy Christmas alone.

Last year, I bought a Christmas cactus in flower. It survived the whole year and in November I noticed little pink buds and was hopeful for flowers. I have never had any luck with plants re-flowering even if they do well otherwise. Only one of these buds bloomed into a flower. But it is a really impressive flower — one I will remember for years to come.