THE gift of the yuletide comes to us wrapped, not in tissues and ribbon but in cherished events of ceremony, celebration, connections and parties that constellate about the holiday season.
Guests troop in all sizes and shapes, of race, color and creed in effulgence that intoxicates, sizzles and electrifies the holiday revelers. It could be a small cozy, intimate gathering or there are the large parties that generally abound.
Some of these parties are an institutional imperative, often likely that the ratio between the people you know, and the people who are there becomes smaller and smaller. Upon entering, you scan the horizon anxiously in search of a familiar face; and once you find one – you’re not even qualified to defend yourself with panache, on how to deal with that party’s dizzying phase.
So, here we go again, gearing up for the holidays upon us. Who said holidays-in-laws summit and alcohol don’t mix?
Try explaining why people seem to be pretty giggly for no apparent reason.
Singing what is to ride on a one-horse open sleigh. That’s ludicrous!
I have never roasted chestnuts on an open fire.
And what of the Wandering Wise Men, that could truly make one suspicious. Why is it called ‘the Epiphany’?
There have been stars in my eyes lately. But I’ve never seen an angel, just the addicting ruckus of my Holy Terrors aged 8 and 10.
Dreaming of a White Christmas, I’ve never known.
You see, the Christmas that I’ve known lately, has never been really great. I am too old to believe in it, yet too young to give it up.
And for the sake of what it brings, the grace of humility is the most precious gift!
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E-mail Mylah at [email protected].
