Festivus For The Rest Of Us

Is it almost the holidays again? Crap. I lost track since the stores put the decorations out in June.

When I think of Thanksgiving and Christmas I immediately think of the Seinfeld episode that brought us Festivus. Only in my family, we don’t have the Airing of Grievances or Feats of Strength. We have Judgmental Gossip, Seething Jealousies and The Keeping of Secrets. But in the end, I think the spirit is the same.

I also like to think of food. Mainly someone else cooking it. I still haven’t learned how to enjoy the kitchen experience. Unless it is sitting down to eat. My husband is a great cook, and I come home from work to great meals. I never tell him thank you like I should. Just being married to him is one thing I am most thankful for. But I also take it completely for granted.

A former co-worker was born the same week, same year as me. I always thought she was one of the coolest, hippest chicks I ever met. Recently, when her husband died in an accident, leaving her a single mom to two small children, I was just stunned. I knew she was beyond devastated. He was my age. How could that happen to them?

I remember how badly I missed Stephen when he worked in Ohio. What if he wasn’t coming back? How would I feel then? How can I be so easily aggravated when my friend would give anything to see her husband just one more time?

I am such a critical person. The first one to complain, and loudly! I see the glass as half empty, and it needs washing! But instead of wasting energy stressing on what is out of my control, I need to remember how much worse it could be. I have my husband with me. He somehow tolerates me and calls it love. It’s a beautiful thing.

Two years ago, around Thanksgiving our son was in the hospital, just diagnosed with Crohn’s disease. We found a good doctor and we have come a long way. He has a lot of medication, which we can afford, thanks to health insurance. He is now working toward his diploma. Beyond that, he is a talented kid, an old soul, a beautiful person. He is articulate, a lover of books and a deep thinker who has taught himself to play several musical instruments. He has the creative spirit of an artist. If he gets depressed because he is sick, he hides it from me pretty well. Next to my husband, he is the love of my life. Considering he is 16, we are pretty close. There isn’t a lot we don’t talk about. And we laugh. We really crack each other up. How much would some people trade for that?

So I think this year while everyone else is engaged in The Keeping of Secrets and Judgmental Gossip, I am going to enjoy the meal someone else cooked and try to remember why I love them.