It's Christmas Eve. Sara is sleeping next to me, dealing with a cold. I'm worried, as I always am when she feels less than optimal. With each cough I'm just seeing I'm seeing an increase in the severity of the conditions. I just want her to feel better for Christmas. This is all I want for Christmas.
It has been a crazy year. I made a move away from so many friends and family members to see what life in Montana would hold for me. To progress my education, to get a trade, to find my way, and to be with the amazing woman I met earlier this year. It was a sacrifice in some ways, but nonetheless, I am happy with everything I've gained. A fiance. Our menagerie. A bright and happy future. It will only get better from here.
I can't wait to see my little one open up the presents so many have sent to her. It is her and my 2nd Christmas together (hers and Sara's 1st) and I'm excited to see the joy that is ALWAYS on her face this time of year. I don't get to see her often. To be honest, this is a constant source of frustration and melancholy for me. I'm just glad I get to share in at least this with her. I'll get plenty of pictures of her for those of you who can't be there. Thanks again for helping ensure she has an amazing Christmas.
This time of year, I'm reminded of my past. How I felt, who couldn't be there, who was. Our mom was always trying so hard to give us a Christmas where there was no disappointment, no missed presents. Every toy we circled in the big Toys R Us book under the tree... every hint at what we wanted hidden somewhere under a bow. She did way more than she had to. Way more than we needed. Only now am I able to fully understand how hard it had to have made things. I just want to thank you Mom... I may not remember the toy that held my captivation... the movie that demanded I owned it immediately... the book that I couldn't get from a library... or the electronics we didn't need but had to have. I do remember being extremely happy despite how crazy our lives got sometimes... and how hard you fought to give us the life we had. My Dad was there as often as he could be. It was easy when he was stationed nearby. I remember Christmas was difficult the years he wasn't there. Yet we'd always get something amazing. They were amazing in how practical they were. Things you use often but never would have thought to ask for. You never knew you needed them but once you had them, you have no idea how you got on so far without them. This tradition continues to this day. I am deeply appreciative for how hard he fought to be there for us on Christmas. I know he was doing... and still is doing... important work for our country. Thank you Dad.
The true meaning of Christmas, although defined differently by so many people in so many ways, didn't become clear to me until later in life. I will admit, I tried hard as a child to give presents. Years I could and years I couldn't. It did bring me joy but each Christmas it was the presents that waited for me that brought me more excitement than seeing the smiles brought on by the presents to others. As I got older and older, I felt the dynamic shift. Once Lily was born, it was like everything made perfect sense. I felt bad for years where I thought "what will I get?" instead of "what am I giving?" There is no matched joy for the way I felt last Christmas. Seeing my little girl get presents from my family and I. There was no greed on her face, in her demeanor. She just had this excited smile as she opened each toy. She played with each of them before she'd even consider opening the next one. Halfway through, she stopped opening entirely and I had to take over. She didn't need, want, expect, or demand what was under the tree. She was content. And very, very happy. I realized then that THAT was what it was all about. I cannot remember being more enlightened or more happy in my life.
My family helps make sure that Lily has a great Christmas each year. Even the year I didn't get to see her, they were there with presents that were waiting for her when I was awarded my time with her. Nothing could make up for that first Christmas. Not for my inability to be there. Not for the reason it wasn't so. All I can fight for is knowing I will try as long as I live to never miss another.
We're spending Christmas Eve with Sara's parents and Christmas with mine. I feel guilty for taking her away on Christmas and I miss knowing this will be my first Christmas Eve that we don't follow the tradition of opening one present on this day. It's compromising, I suppose. I just hope Sara is happy this Christmas. I am just in having her.
To those of you I can't see... for those of you I never can again... for those of you who have made this year and my life so great... Merry Christmas.
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