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I even like the pre-Christmas period with songs, decorations and inspired people all around. However, the closer I get to December 24, the more irritated I am. This year, I am particularly frustrated by Facebook posts about Christmas cleaning, stick dumplings, shopping, gifts, and preparations.
In recent years in Montreal every year I have organized a huge Christmas Eve for a dozen or so people, which I call the traditional Christmas dinner for the needs of the English language. This year I did an examination of my conscience and wondered why it was so? I started with the simplest question – Do I like Christmas? I think, even with sadness, I am forced to answer honestly – no, I don’t like it. I don’t like them for a very simple reason. I have unpleasant associations with them. Holidays are a happy time for wealthy people. With the exception of the two or three-year exception, my family has always been poor. I never liked the gifts I got. They were always practical and reflected basic needs. I have always liked the gifts of my colleagues, girlfriends, cousins and cousins. I have never protested loudly, and with a great sense of injustice, feigned joy in a sweater or pants. My parents never knew how to conjure up Christmas magic. They seemed to want to jump over them as quickly as possible. With time, as we grew up, even the gifts ran out. My parents made trouble even more by dissolving every penny in a glass. For this reason, family gatherings were also a nightmare. I guess we all pretended at the Christmas table that it was fun, because it has to be like that. It’s Christmas. My Christmas showed me my parents completely hopeless compared to others.
“Mum, don’t think that I’m complaining
I only feel sorry for my dreams and my childhood days, my days”
Then suddenly, one time, Montreal came and I had to arrange my holiday. I was doing brilliant. A house full of people, small gifts with lots of smiles and joy. Only that from year to year it occurred to me more and more that by modeling the perfect Christmas I want to prove something to myself. That despite everything, being as far as you can imagine it from family connotations, I still pretend to me that Christmas is a special and special time for me. And it is probably so, only in a non-positive image of this holiday. This year I thought that I had to try to stop banging my head against the wall of Christmas Eve while realizing my Christmas ideas and do something that would be my own and also Christmas. I gave up on the great Christmas Eve and on filling the house with hospitality. I decorated the house and invited a live Christmas tree to Montreal (only) as every year. On Christmas Eve we go with Sergio to the “Christmas Party” to our friends, where we bring with us a szuba, a salad of crab sticks and a Greek-style fish. The next morning we are going with a friend and her son to Quebec City for a long weekend.
I don’t discover America with my Christmas resolutions. The media is writing more and more about the second day of “Happy Christmas”. I just want to openly join the group of those for whom Christmas is quite an exhausting period.
From my migration perspective, I wish everyone, on the occasion of Christmas, to recognize what is most important in their lives. I also wish that fulfilled dreams do not have to cost too many sacrifices.
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