Alone on Christmas. I'm like Kevin McCallister only slightly less cute and all I have to arm myself against intruding loneliness is a can of baked beans and a chocolate orange-- half a chocolate orange. As it turns out, if you spend Christmas Eve drinking all the alcohol Sainsbury's will legally sell you, you are still left waking up solo but with a headache that could be easily confused for a brain aneurism. That being said, spending Christmas in the hospital would make for a much more entertaining blog entry. I've never been without family on Christmas, and I'll be honest, it ain't easy. Leading up to this family filled day, I'd convinced myself that I'm a big, tough girl who moved herself all the way across the world all on her own so a measly little holiday for one should be peanuts. And yet I still woke up on the morning of and cried for my Mommy and Daddy. So what, I cried. I cried and sat alone in a bar drinking more booze and reading a book about a Nigerian girl who moved across the world and wrote a blog with the theory that anyone else's story is a better place to be than in my own-- even if her story is almost identical to mine. The Nigerian girl got her hair braided and I sank deeper into my cider and pooling self pity.
I am making my situation out to be way worse than it actually is. I have a flair for such. I have amazing friends who've spent time with me over the past few days and I am eternally grateful. But there's something about it that just isn't quite the same. Doesn't fill the hole that your Mom in her fluffy slippers and pink house coat coasting zombie-like through the living room, eyes squinting at the distance between her and her first cup of coffee does. Or sharing a caesar with your dad while he explains to you the ins and outs of turkey cooking knowing full well it's gone completely over your head. Or spending Christmas Eve wrapped up on your brother's couch falling asleep in front of a Meryl Streep film feeling completely content, cherishing the fact that the two of you could be together, an ocean away from home. I stuff that last slice of chocolate orange into my mouth and sigh. Alright baked beans, it's just you and me now. Perhaps everyone needs to go through a Christmas alone in order to really appreciate how much their family really means to them. I even nearly cried while skyping my grandmother as she showed me that the patterns on her sweater weren't only polka dots but also stripes! So maybe this is a lesson learned. A lesson in financial responsibility-- start saving my dollars, pounds, euros, rupees, whatever currency I will deal in by this time next year so that I can finally be home for Christmas, and not have to drink alone, but in the comfort and company of my family, every fluffy pink and polka dot clad one of them. So here's to 2016. No matter where it leads me, may it find me at home on Christmas day.
I am making my situation out to be way worse than it actually is. I have a flair for such. I have amazing friends who've spent time with me over the past few days and I am eternally grateful. But there's something about it that just isn't quite the same. Doesn't fill the hole that your Mom in her fluffy slippers and pink house coat coasting zombie-like through the living room, eyes squinting at the distance between her and her first cup of coffee does. Or sharing a caesar with your dad while he explains to you the ins and outs of turkey cooking knowing full well it's gone completely over your head. Or spending Christmas Eve wrapped up on your brother's couch falling asleep in front of a Meryl Streep film feeling completely content, cherishing the fact that the two of you could be together, an ocean away from home. I stuff that last slice of chocolate orange into my mouth and sigh. Alright baked beans, it's just you and me now. Perhaps everyone needs to go through a Christmas alone in order to really appreciate how much their family really means to them. I even nearly cried while skyping my grandmother as she showed me that the patterns on her sweater weren't only polka dots but also stripes! So maybe this is a lesson learned. A lesson in financial responsibility-- start saving my dollars, pounds, euros, rupees, whatever currency I will deal in by this time next year so that I can finally be home for Christmas, and not have to drink alone, but in the comfort and company of my family, every fluffy pink and polka dot clad one of them. So here's to 2016. No matter where it leads me, may it find me at home on Christmas day.
What a white Christmas
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