Soapbox

Parenting is about letting go.
The first unbinding is at birth,
when you release the child from under your heart.
You surrender them a thousand times in those first few weeks
to  eager armies of aunts, uncles and friends.
You clasp your hands together akwardly,
grinning fiercely to stop yourself
from begging them not to drop him.

Just when you've mastered that letting go with some equanimity
your baby begins to explore the world on their own
and your arms are wrenched open in another type of release,
one guaranteed to result in bumps and bruises
and some measure of tears on both sides.

Baby becomes child, and mother encounters
school days, sleep-over, weeks at summer camp with strangers
and again and again you must open your arms, just a little wider
and surrender knowing that their hair is combed, jacket zipped,
that they are saying "please" and "thank you".
Then the driver's license, first job and off to college~
Open wide, and release
seeing that they get up on time and get their homework done:
let go of knowing what kind of people they hang around with,
seeing to it they eat right,
knowing without being told if they are happy, or are struggling.

Then comes the day of that final letting go.
The car is packed, a little extra cash tucked in a pocket~
Now don't argue with me, I want you to have it!
quick hugs all around and the car pulls out,
your grown-up child drives away,
off to their own home,
their own life.

You wave with a composed if slightly bleary smile and go back inside
unsure exactly what to do with these
open, empty, vestigial arms.
So you call your own mother, try to explain what you are feeling,
and as she offers you words of comfort
something in her voice makes you realize
that she is still in the process of letting you go.

She is beautiful but cannot see it
in a world that values "pretty" so much more.
She is precious, but will not understand it
until one day a small piece of her heart
leaves her body and walks across the room.

She is fierce in love and loyalty,
a defender of small things,
easily angered by injustice
yet quick to forgive everyone but herself.

She lives with her heart wide open,
defenseless against the calloused and entitled,
easily scratched and dented
yet still she walks unafraid.

She is utterly her own person,
wanting to belong
but never willing to conform.
Her laughter infects the blood,
spreading happy contaigen.
In joy she is incandescent
and like a sparkler on a summer night
her heart lights up the darkness.

It is my solemn burden and highest honor
to worry about her,
to brag about her and feed her,
to entertain her when she is bored,
fuss over her when she is sick,
to cry with her,
rejoice with her and about her-

to call her my child.

You know what I hate?
Christmas.

    I'm not talking about Christmas the quaint little holiday of my youth that lasted about two weeks, where you made a few gifts, ate a few cookies, visited a few grandmas and sang a few carols. That was lovely and overall, pretty peaceful.
    No, I"m talking about  Christmas,  the  soul-sucking corporate giant that has spread like a tumor, gobbling up more and more of the calendar, and the people who think their religion now owns the last two months of every year! Because seriously, the only thing stupider than getting offended if someone says "Merry Christmas" it getting offended if someone doesn't!!  All this ranting and holier-than-thou picketing of every court house without a nativity scene and every pre-school that calls their year-end sugar orgy a "holiday party" instead of a Christmas party out of deference to their Asian students is just nuts. "Cause nothing says Christmas spirit like hitting someone over the head with the baby Jesus!

You know what I hate besides Christmas?
Christmas carols.

     Oh, I can hark to those herald angels with a church choir all night long- no, I"m talking about the crap that gets stuffed down our throats starting at 12:01 AM the day after Halloween in every store and half the radio stations in town. Elvis can have a blue christmas and Bing can dream about a white one, but some people should be legally barred from even attempting to sing "O Holy Night" And when some breathy, adenoidal fool ruins "IHave Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" I want to put a merry little Ice pick through my ear to stop the pain.
   Plus, I"m sorry, but when a 40-something man sings that all he wants for Christmas is his two front teeth, I figure he must either have been in a bar fight recently or have terrible oral hygiene. And neither thought really engenders Christmas spirit, am I right?

You know what I hate, besides Christmas and Christmas carols?
Christmas shopping.

   Oh. My. God. I like giving things to people, but shopping is nuts! Saturday, in a mis-guided spasm of sisterly loyalty, I went to the mall with Becky. Somewhere in the middle of Target, I hit the wall, the way marathon runners do. Maybe it was the chaos or the crowds or the forced, fake festivity or just the massive over-consumption and waste of it all, but suddenly I felt like I was going to hyperventilate or throw up or something. I had to lean against a pillar and close my eyes and count to ten.
    Nearby a 2 year old was wailing and throwing herself on the floor, weeping in frustration and exhaustion. I found myself wondering if Becky would give me a sippy cup and let me ride in the cart if I started crying. Then I remembered that I was the one who drove and thought better of it.

You know what I hate besides Christmas and carols and shopping?
Christmas advertising.

    Please, I beg of you, do not make me watch one more ad where Santa shops at your store because he gets the best prices. What kind of store would make Santa pay for stuff for good little children? I also can't abide car commercials this time of year. How many people really buy their wives a Lexus for Christmas? Where do they get those 6 foot bows for the top? And what if she doesn't like the color, or really wanted the BMW?
   Oh, and Christmas movies! If no one ever makes another movie where the jaded and selfish adult, or the good-hearted, wise-cracking neighborhood kids, or the plucky puppies have to help Santa "save" Christmas, the world will be a better place. The only thing Christmas needs to be saved from is itself.

You know what else I hate?
People. Humanity in general is Ok, but far too many people out there just suck. I work retail so at this time of year, I meet them all.

    I'm sorry I"m not more into the "ho ho ho" thing. I know- what kind of an awful person would hate Christmas? In this country, if you don't love the holidays (excuse me- Christmas) you are considered to be either a sociopath, hideously selfish or a godless socialist. I am none of those things, trust me. I think I have just had Christmas stuffed down my throat til I could puke red and green.

    Still I have tried to get myself back to basics and find some Christmas joy. I asked myself- what is Christmas all about, Charlie Brown? What gave me joy in years past?
    My kids are grown and no longer want to write letters to Santa, have cookie parties at Grandmas or put on impromptu Christmas plays with paper Santa beards like they used to. (Rats. I loved that.) And I just don't have the time or energy to make gifts and ornaments like I used to.
   The church pageant is definitely more stress than joy, at least for the one organizing it, which I always end up being. The service itself makes me sad now because while I get the whole gender-neutral thing and yeah, I"m pretty sure God does not have a penis, I just can't stand to hear lovely, 200 year old songs butchered to remove all references to "father" "son", "kingdom", etc. Come on, people!
   I bought food for the food pantry and performed other charitable acts, only to get grief from my conservative friends  because "those people" who stand shivering at highway exits with cardboard signs are all scam artists, so I shouldn't give them a dollar when I roll by in my nice warm car…. and from my liberal friends because the Salvation Army actively discriminates against people with alternative lifestyles, so I shouldn't put money in the pot for them.
   And we can't even decorate a tree this year becase 6 month old Tucker will gleefully snatch and chew anything that he can reach- and he's a jumper. Oh, how I miss unwrapping all my lovely handmade ornaments and the memories of Christmases past they bring! We put a few lights on the tree and a star on top and had to be content with that, but rather than helping, I"m afraid the almost naked tree was contributing to the overall bah humbug gloom.
    ~sigh~

    Last night I got up at 3:30 to answer the call of the puppy's bladder. As I walked down the hall I saw a light and realized that the kids had gone to bed and left the tree plugged in. I leaned against the doorway to the living room and with bleary, midnight eyes considered the dim, softly glowing colors of the gentle tree that gave its life to grace my living room. I inhaled its faintly citrus aroma and realized that I had a smile on my face.
   Huh. A few quiet moments alone, an unassuming bit of nature, the family safely asleep in their beds and the puppy nuzzling my leg. Nothing much, but for a few moments I felt like I had found my bliss.

    And I guess that'll do. Happy Holidays.

A few days ago I found a piece of paper on the computer table, written in Katie's hand. I thought it was lyrics to a song she liked, and the words touched me, so I googled them to find out who wrote it.
   Turns out- she wrote it, when she was about 15. She didn't seem to think much of the effort, but I liked it so much that I wanted to make it into the song I originally thought it was. So, with a few tweeks and some choruses added by me, it is. Maybe some day you'll get to hear it. Meanwhile, Here's to us!

To all of my beloved,
to the people, one and all,
Come close and raise a glass
to what we're losing as we fall.
Here's to all the smiles
that never left our lips,
An expression to move a nation
or to launch a thousand ships.

Here's to all the laughter
at nothing important,
Mindless giggles on the floor
and the blissful tears they grant.
Here's to all the hugging,
to chase a little pain
Or to steal one last moment
with those we'll never see again.

    Here's to us, to you and to me
    And to a thousand
    and a thousand lovely possibilities:
    To those who'll stay together
    And those we'll only keep in our memory….
    Here's to memory!
 

Here's to all sweet kisses,
a tenderness bouquet
To catch within our hearts,
so lost in disarray.
Here's to all the dreams
of some glad brightness in this world,
That helped us keep our footing
as it spun and it twirled.

Here's to the time that slipped away
    And the secret wishes,
    all the wishes we could never say.
    Here's to the selves that we surrendered
    On the road to who we are today.
    Here's to today!

Here's to all the memories
of you and me and us-
All the things we'll not forget
and those we can't discuss.
To bonfires bravely tended
from just a little spark
And to keeping up our courage
as we whistle in the dark.

And lastly, here's to you-
my friend, my light, my love
Know that, in times of memory,
you're who I'm thinking of.
I only ask this of you now:
laugh, love kiss and dream
But if time serves you right,
could you spare a thought for me?

    Here's to the past that seems so far
    And the future, shining future,
    that leads us like a star.
    Here's to all the generations
    Who helped to make us who we are.

    Here's to us, to you and to me.  
    And to a thousand
    and a thousand lovely possibilities:
    To those who'll stay together
    And those we'll only keep in our memory….
    Here's to memory!

        K and T Meisky