Bah Humbug

Christmas time is here, happiness and cheer, fun for all that children call their favorite time of year. Snowflakes in the air, carols everywhere, olden times and ancient rhymes and love and dreams to share.

In the words Ebenezer Scrooge " Bah Humbug!" I really hate that I feel that way. Christmas use to be my favorite time of the year. Memories of putting up Christmas decorations with mother while listening to old 45' records(You know the ones with the RCA dog on the front) playing Silver Bells and The Little Drummer boy. I wasn't born in the 40's however, we were just old fashion!

The Decorations were the same for as long as I can remember. It grew each year with things I made in school. Mother always thought they were great! I knew that they looked like shit. Hell, I didn't even want to bring them home!

The big plastic door cover of Santa. The Manger scene that seem to lose people each year.(I was clumsy!) The plastic stable that held the Christmas card. Christmas cards on display.

I always loved that feeling. The feeling of coming home to the love and care-free spirit of Christmas.

With my Godmother, Christmas was the same way. The difference was I would ALWAYS go Christmas shopping with my Godmother. For as long as I can remember, she and I would walk everyone mile in North Florida by gifts for everyone. My Godmother was the kinda person the bought EVERYONE a gift. (After she died in January, we found a gift card she bought for one of my ex boyfriends) If she couldn't get you something you wanted, she would give you cash or a gift card attached with something for your sweet tooth. We would chocolate candy and gift cards to have on hand just in case we forgot someone. Like the sweet cashier at Food Lion.

The funny thing is, I never saw her buy me a gift. Somehow, every year, I would wake up and their would be all kinds of gifts with my name on them. (Its really hard thinking about those times)

This year, the spirit of Christmas is gone far from me. As much as want to be in the spirit, I just cant get into it. When I try, I get sad and then my sadness comes through as anger because I don't want to show my sadness.

The Question this year isn't " Where are you, Christmas?". The Question is " Why are you here, Christmas?"

I pray that my Christmas has the same result as Scrooges'.

Antony