It's Christmas

It's still Christmas, we are saying--because I need to say that to stave off the blasted decrescendo of post-Christmas let-down.

When I was just beginning to fall in love with writing...back in the day when I ratted my bangs one, two, three times with my turquoise comb and spraaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyed every last dead end of 'em, slowly and evenly, with the tall, cold can of hair spray...back in the day when I'd click back and forth between red ink and blue ink on my four color pen...back in the day when my third grade teacher, Mrs. Clark, told us the world was our oyster and we were its pearl...I met my friends, the Adjectives, and fell hard and heavy for them. They had me at beautiful. They slayed me with delicious. They charmed me with alluring and exquisite and pulchritudinous (yeah, you heard me...pulchritudinous...look it up).

Over-adjective-izing will forever be my problem. Because I like beautiful and amazing and pulchritudinous, and when I'm feeling it? I want to shout them all...to echo from the mountaintop "I'm blithe." "I'm elated!" I'm intoxicated with exhultant joy and, oh for God's sake, I'm so over the top, I'm begging for someone to slap me in the face.

But, I'm going to try and go easy tonight. Because, really, I loved this week. I loved it. It was one of those nothing-special but because of that, so-very special Christmases, all in one. And yes, that sounds very unicorn-and-rainbowish, but I'm a little unicorn-and-rainbowish, so I guess that's okay. And just to confirm that thought, I got up to get a drink a minute ago, mid-post, and my head hit a set of windchimes hung from the door...and it made this little harmonious plllltttiinnnggg sound which kind of sounded like unicorns and rainbows, and well...there you have it. Okay, so now I'm laughing.

It was a beautiful time, you know. A happy one. Not so happy that it was out of touch. No, it was grounded with just a little bit of well, that's life. Because I felt a little sad yesterday, for no particular reason I could come up with. It did kind of have something to do with feeling inadequate and a very small amount of insecurity, when I returned to the past and anonymous critics. But that doesn't distinguish me from any other teenage girl on the planet right now. Happy? Yes. Celebrating all that 2013 has given me, from the people to the places to the experiences? Yes. But due for some closure where I can go to that place again some time with no purpose but for to say "Hey, I'm back" to those thoughts and feelings and make a moment of that something sacred happened there, and then finally, try to let it go...yes. But, that's life.

And with life comes breathing and feeling moments.

My favorite part of Christmas? When the morning spills over into complete calm. Everyone finds a different corner of the house, we test out new gifts, adults rest on couches, the mess on the living room floor dissolves into the setting and everything is quiet and happy and good. I collapsed on the couch late morning, not intending to sleep, but I fell into one of those half awake naps where my eyes were closed and my brain was off duty but I was very aware that I was smiling and listening to the chatter and Christmas songs and everything was as it should be.

For some reason, I was positive that some part of Christmas happiness and cheer and whatnot would make me cry, but alas (term coined from Claire. Thank you, Claire) it did not happen. We didn't even notice when night came. We were busy, happy, making cookies.

And my favorite part of Christmas came next. Mia and Rafa, my little Christmas angels whose presense makes me feel like I could do anything. They wrote me letters and made me feel so wonderful and happy.

And that one? Well, that one made me cry.

We're still in vacation mode. And feeling so thankful for family and home.

To scrapbooks being filled with much love.  Chin-Chin.