Christmas morning, as is my custom, I’m the first to get to the tree. I give the room a once over with cup of coffee in hand. I think I just want to see what this side of Christmas looks like one last time. I love to see my Littles’ faces when they open their presents. The anticipation of gift giving, I appreciate this magic more as I get older.
Right beside the tree is a window unit and, as much as it pains me to do it, I turn that baby on before everyone gets in the room. I’d rather not sweat through Christmas. Like my seasonable sensibilities, my old house can’t handle an air conditioner and a tree full of Christmas. A loud pop’s followed by complete darkness and shouting. It’s a very Christmas Story moment minus the Bumpus hounds.
Night before last, the little-Little asks me why people hate refugees and why people hate Muslims. Boom. My philosophy of parenting has always been to give my children no more than they can carry. As I begin to stumble my way through a response, she hits me with a series of questions.
What would happen if America is at war and we have to leave our house and our dogs and the new kitten? Who will feed them? What if I get lost? What if we can’t find one another? What if we have to live in a tent with no electricity? How will we eat? What if people think we’re dangerous because we’re Americans? What if we have to hide? Will I have my books? What if Dada dies?
I’m terrified by the time she stops asking questions.
You know how folks in other countries have all this high productivity on accounta they’re taking naps during the day? Well, listen. I don’t take naps. When my Littles were of the age when they napped I was all about it, ’cause it was either nap or take amphetamines. I’m in that in between stage right now. I don’t have any small children to exhaust me and I’m not old enough to require my own naps. Other folks take naps. Y’all might long for them yourselves. I’m more of a fan of the break. My productivity is pretty damn high.
Sisters, it’s late. I had plans to share a story this weekend. Instead, I lived a couple of stories. I lived well. I lived boldly, beautifully, and in complete balance. Such a rare treat in a world of chaos and distortion.