It is that portion of the holiday season that I like best – the time of anticipation of getting together with family and friends and spending time with one another. For in anticipation there is only promise, and promise makes the prospects of such gatherings sparkle with the glitter of the season.
Christmas is three days away and my son, Peter, arrives tomorrow morning by plane from his current home in Eastern Washington. I will be at work awaiting his arrival by means of the airport train that will drop him off literally underneath my building. He will email me just prior to entering the downtown shuttle and I will wait for him in our building lobby, watching various doors and guessing which one he will eventually come through. The simple act of standing and waiting to see his smile and slightly disheveled hat will be one of the highlights of my season, for when he comes our ongoing, life-long conversation will resume the moment we share a welcoming hug.
On Christmas morning, I always arise first from force of habit rooted firmly in the eagerness of childhood Christmases. I strongly suspect that I will arise prior to the time that Don, Sarah, Chloe and Emma get out of their beds in Boston. However, I can no longer be absolutely certain of that since, at ages 6 and 3, Chloe and Emma have a lot of energy and excitement stored up, but I can virtually promise at least a tie. While waiting for Helen and Peter to get out of bed (which will eventually happen after a few hints from me), I will spend the early hours of the morning thinking about what Don and Sarah’s household is up to, enjoying my image of Chloe’s and Emma’s excitement at what Santa may have brought them and awaiting that time of morning when I can call them to see if my imagination is close to the mark.
While those early Christmas morning hours will include remembrances of past family gatherings, they will be dominated by my musings about how friends and family are celebrating the holiday. In some cases I will have a firm hold on what they will likely do, but in others my contemplation will be sheer guesswork. Anticipation plays a role here, too, since I will begin calling many of these folks after our own presents have finally been opened to share in their joy of the season. I look forward to these calls because they expand our personal celebration beyond the walls of our home so that our living room eventually encompasses all of Humptulips County with its far-flung, elastic borders.
New Year’s day promises further anticipation, primarily because it is our anniversary. Football games hold no real anticipation for me (except in those years when an alma mater may be playing on New Year’s day), but the day itself always holds the prospects of another year and my personal ruminations upon the past and the future. In our portion of Humptulips County, New Year’s day often begins under an overcast sky adorned with blue and rose tinted clouds, and somehow these pastel infusions into an otherwise gray sky always seem to hold mysterious promises for us and our marriage.
This New Year’s day we are having brunch with our good friends Tom and Carrie as guests in their home. I am looking forward to the art of gentle conversation that often results when residents of Humptulips County find themselves blessed by living under the sort of skies most often found only in wintry landscapes by Claude Monet, conversations which will most likely range forward and backward in time in keeping with the day’s theme.
And so it is that this moment which precedes the actual principal celebrations of the season represents one of my favorite times of the season – and the year. All of these events have yet to occur, yet reside factually pristine within my imagination. I trust that they will unfold in keeping with my imaginings, imaginings which cannot be too far wrong since they are fueled by so many memories of past holiday seasons and swaddled in the comfort of family and friends.
