where the love-light gleams

That portrait of Santa never comes down.

If you've read my blog or have been within earshot of my whining, you know that I am spending this Christmas solo. 

Don't worry. I bought plenty of sushi and frozen fajita fixings and extra booze in case I'm snowed in or the corner liquor store closes until the new year. 

But this is a big deal. I was raised on this holiday. I grew up down the street from the largest Christmas store in the WORLD. There are Christmas trees and portraits of Santa Claus in my childhood home that never come down. It is literally Christmas 24/7, 365 days a year in Frankenmuth, Michigan. 

Since I can't be with my family in that magical town to give them gifts, and since I am far too poor to afford gifts AND postage, I have decided to share my greatest gift. 

My genius writing. 

Since this post isn't for you (unless you're my family), feel free to skip it. But if you're as obsessed with me as I think you are, and if you appreciate the warmth of Christmas magic, I give you my Top 5 Favorite Christmas Memories. 

Sincerely Santa - circ. 1996

At twenty five years old, I am not ashamed to say that I still believe in Santa Claus. But hey, people still believe in Jesus, and his gifts are way less tangible. However, there was indeed a Christmas in which I discovered Santa was not the one who delivered my gifts.  

I was seven and came down the stairs Christmas morning to see a keyboard set up near the tree. Since I'd been having trouble deciding between learning the violin or piano, I was glad that Santa had made the decision for me. Upon inspecting the gift further, I noticed a note set atop the keys that read, "Merry Christmas. Love, Santa," followed by a smiley face. 

The exact same smiley face my mother used in all of her notes. The gift was not from Santa. Somebody was lying. When I began to distinguish my mother's handwriting on all of the tags, I realized none of the gifts were from Santa. 

Still, instead of jumping to the conclusion that there was no Santa Claus, I logically decided that at the ripe age of seven, I no longer needed Santa to deliver my presents. It was bogus to believe he could hit all the houses in the world, and since I was lucky enough to have parents that could provide for me, there were other children that needed him far more. 

The Wonderful World of Rates May Apply - circ. 2005

OK, I get it, I faced very little adversity as a child, and my 14th trip to Disney World was during Christmas. 

I was sixteen and my sister had just turned eighteen. You can imagine that all we wanted to do was spend time with our parents and Mickey Mouse over the holidays. There are still some sad, sassy-ass photos of us two lurking on a desktop wallpaper somewhere. Luckily, we had just received our very own cell phones that year, colored displays and all. 

We spent the entire trip flipping those phones open and closed to text our friends and assured our parents it was nothing. What did parents know about cell phones? Little did WE know that every time we T-9'd, we were being charged. Well, THEY were being charged. 

Yes, there was a time before texting was unlimited, and boy was it costly. We racked up a wish list of $500 in text messages over four days and kicked off 2006 banned from our phones. 

FUN FACT: I had my first chocolate covered frozen banana that trip. It was just before I came out to my parents. Treat fail. 

Friends are Family - circ. 2006

My dad and I had a Christmas Eve tradition for years. We would wake up early to have breakfast together, walk through Bronner's Christmas Wonderland, and then shop for one last gift for my mom. One year, my dad asked if it would be OK for his friend Kirk to join us. I remember at first thinking, "And ruin our tradition of father/son bonding?" but I didn't want to sound like a brat, so I agreed. 

When we began breakfast, I was still feeling a little put out by having another guest. Then I took my bitchy attitude out of my waffles and started to listen to my dad and his friend talk about their childhood. It was amazing how much they could remember for two old dudes with their brains put together, and Kirk was the only other man in the world who loved Disney World as much as my dad. He really was part of our family. We invited him every year after. I hope my friends will go out of their way in twenty years to have Christmas brunch with me and my bratty-ass kid. 

Kirk passed away a few years ago, but every Christmas, I think about how happy I am he changed our tradition and taught me that the best family is found in the friends we are around (a Christmas rhyme I just made up free of charge).

We Three Kings - circ. 2008

One Christmas home from college, my family was in need of a holiday detox. We decided to regretfully decline all invitations to family gatherings in a unified stance against dysfunction. 

Luckily, my parents both had the flu and my sister was off with her boyfriend, so we had a pretty good excuse for absence. I was left to Facebook chat with my Jewish friends as I sat in the kitchen while my ailing parents occupied the sofas. 

I had never met a Jewish person until college, and I was introduced to their unique Christmas customs. That Christmas Eve, I shared with my parents the story of the Jews and their century old traditions of Chinese food and movies on the holidays. 

So, we called up the Szechuan House of Frankenmuth, popped in White Christmas, and had ourselves a very Jewish Yuletide. Still one of my favorite holiday mishaps to date. 

A Very Bro Christmas - circ. 2010

You know those people who won't take off their sunglasses?

Friends may be the family you choose, but your sister's husband is unfortunately out of your jurisdiction. My sister announced her engagement to my now brother-in-law one holiday season, six months after they met and three weeks after they started dating. They were married six months later.

I was away at college, so I barely knew the dude before I showed up to stand in line next to the alter. But I remember that first Christmas when I woke up and came down to the tree when there were now five of us instead of four. Something about it felt right. He didn't try to steal the spotlight from me and laughed at all my jokes. More importantly, he had gotten me an official U.S. Army backpack. I have yet to find another bag that has ever been as functional as that one, and it always gets me a discount at the Atlanta airport. 

My sister picked the right man, and I look forward to many more Christmases with Michael - and his really badass gifts.  

My 16th trip to Disney World with the Fab 5 Fam.

I may not have my family with me this Christmas, but there are pages of memories that fill my heart with each glass of wine I pour. While I hope this is the only holiday we don't spend together, I know that whatever happens, we have a love that spreads beyond the season.

I'll be home for Christmas. 

If only in my dreams,

TJB: Making It