An exercise in reflection

Since my day to day life is limited in exciting content, I find myself reflecting and wondering exactly what I could put on here... the stories I could add, the things I could talk about, etc. And I find that it's been quite the exercise in retrospective indulgence. So again, here's another recollection of memories related to my family. I think these are specifically present due to the holidays creeping up ever so quickly.

When we were kids, my parents would trade holidays with each set of grandparents... one year out in Picture Butte, and the next in Calgary with my mom's family. We'd spend Christmas at my grandparents house in the Northwest of Calgary. The drive was pretty familiar... normally, my brother and/or sister and I would be fighting over something ridiculous, or I'd have my head in an Archie comic, or I'd be staring out the windows onto the bald Alberta prairie. The drive was just over two hours to get from doorstep to doorstep, and the first hour and fifty minutes was surrounded by that very prairie. I'd often look out on the landscape, watching for hawks circling the skies. I've always loved watching birds circle high in the mountains or over the fields, looking for food or simply searching for the next updraft to take them somewhere different. Sometimes you'd see a hawk sitting on a fencepost, looking at the silly contraptions driving between cities.

Upon arriving, we could sometimes smell the salty deliciousness of a Christmas ham baking in the house. We could also smell the smell of the old Varisty house. I can never put my finger on what the smell actually was, but it was comforting nonetheless. My brother and I would haul the bags down to the basement and put them in the bedroom, and then climb the stairs up to the kitchen to get mauled by hugs and kisses from gran and a hug and handshake from gramps. We'd spend our time chatting around the table, playing endless games of blackjack and crib, and watching sports on the little TV that sat on the shelf in the dining room. When we were smaller, we'd also rummage through the corner cubby that hid all the toys in that same room and make a big racket, either zooming cars over the linoleum or bickering over who had which toy. Sometimes I'd just take over my grandpa's rocker and read the copies of Reader's Digest strewn around the coffee tables. Before he died, Chemo (my grandparents' husky) would scamper around, scared of the noise and all the excitement.

My brother and sister and I would lay awake late into Christmas eve, listening to our parents arrange the tree and the presents for the next morning. We'd fake sleep if we heard the door handle turning, or make excuses to get up and use the bathroom. We'd always get an earful for this, but we'd do it anyways. We were just so eager to get out and rip apart bows and ribbon and wrapping paper.

Between 5am and 6am, my brother and I would wake up (as would my sister), and we'd be asking to go check out what Santa left. My parents would be exhausted and tell us to go back to sleep (they had probably rolled into bed about 1 or 2 in the morning, but we weren't so concerned about that). But, after tossing and turning and talking under the covers, my parents would finally let us out into the living room to check out our stockings and nothing else... the other presents had to wait for gran and gramps to come down with cameras in tow and breakfast (particularly the coffee) would need to be started.

I'd do my best to grab my sock and dive into Grandpa's old, brown Lazy Boy, my favorite chair in the house (which now resides in my own living room... seen below!).

There would always be new socks (which is strangely one of my absolute favorite things on Christmas morning... the feeling of a brand new pair of socks!), new boxers, chocolates, sometimes ornaments, and other little things that fit inside. Once we could enjoy these little discoveries, my brother and I would either play our original Nintendo (if we brought it), or we'd go back to bed and keep warm. My sister always received similar things, but J and I were less interested in these... since he and I were only about 18 months apart, we hung out a lot and spent most of our holiday time together... A. would often get ignored. Once my parents were ready to make their entrance for the day, we'd all gather again in the living room, get out the cameras and do the big present opening. Pictures would be taken, hugs would be given out, and we'd all try to show off what we got. Then, it was upstairs to the dining room for the traditional Christmas day breakfast of Grandpa's omlettes, bacon, toast, juice, and slices of tomato. I'd likely drink about a gallon of orange juice at this time, and avoid the cheesy omlettes... I wasn't a fan of omlettes back then, and I would only eat them if they had about a litre of ketchup on 'em.

Once the present opening and breakfast were done, we'd start getting ready for the rest of the family to show up (if others were around). We'd play more crib, my dad and gramps would have the holiday beer and juice, and we'd watch videos of Garfield's Christmas and Charlie Brown's Christmas while the turkey was being prepared. More family would come, some more presents would arrive, and we'd spend the day eating, playing more cards, and making a lot of holiday noise. The kids would rummage through my grandparent's "storage" room (a.k.a. my uncle's old bedroom that was full of junk, but had a snooker table lying underneath, or we'd hit up the nintendo and play until we were ready for the big Christmas dinner. Gran would make sure that Kenny G's Christmas album was on the stereo, and later that night, we'd beg and plead to start up the Player Piano so we could sing carols around the wood-burning fireplace.

Now that I'm married and K and I are in BC, it's always harder to make time to see everyone. We also have to share Christmases with our own families, so it's always stressful/hectic to go home. But, I know that when I arrive, those Christmas socks and smells and feelings will come back... they may look much different now, but they still make me enjoy being home.

This is also the first time ever that none of the kids in my house will be waking up on Christmas morn at my parents' house... we've all flown the coop (albeit my brother and sister are only about 5 minutes away). I guess the only constant in life is change itself. Also, the older we get, the shorter our futures become and the longer are pasts are. Are we really growing backwards like Jeffrey Eugenides says? I think that he (and Cibi) might be right...

T