Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Augie Rios Defined my Christmas
I can't be the only one with a complicated relationship with Christmas. I mean, I love it, because who doesn't love Christmas? But, I kind of hate it, because I find myself in constant pursuit of some kind of "perfect Christmas experience".
I want to capture magic, and be focused on the spirit of Christmas, and have perfect gifts, and have time to sit under the Christmas tree and stare up at the lights, and eat baked goods, and go for crisp winter runs, and play games, and drink egg nog . . . it's a big list.
This pursuit I've, for the last decade or so, found harder and harder. It's no mystery, Christmas is more complicated than the quiet waiting of childhood. I buy gifts and organize secret Santas. James and I pack and travel and miss whichever family we're not with.
It's just . . . complicated.
This Christmas was no exception. There were some moments, however, like the one's pictured, that were less fraught. Moments that were still and quiet, and, though the Christmas of my childhood didn't involve lakes and bare trees, still had a faint sense of nostalgia.
From the sound of it, my Christmas was nothing but angst-y. Which it wasn't. There were games and baked goods and one puzzle and a Christmas song that would have taken a bullet to get out of my head and cozy hours spent with newlyweds.
Now we're back in New York, and after 18 hours of traveling yesterday, are still in our pajamas at 2 pm.