Wavey Christmas

Posted by SgtPepper | Posted in | Posted on Wednesday, December 24, 2008

Christmas can take many forms, and be described with several metaphors, as a salad, a boat or a drunk sailer in Paris. But whatever meaning each want to give to said night, today I understand Christmas as a wave, an ocean wave. As any metaphor, it must be explained why the simile, and I could say that they both have to do more with Earth's position and it's interactions with the other heavenly bodies, than with a natural event per se. But christmas is about (or at least it's supposed to be about)love and memories, and so with love and memories I will relate it.

Tonight I compare Christmas with an ocean's wave because every Christmas eve is about family, the memories, and to be grateful of whatever we have (or don't).And it doesn't really matter who you are or where you are, as long as you know the term, it all comes back. Weather you want it or not. So it is a returning feeling, an everlasting event that comes every twelve months. And as strong as it hits, it just goes away, leaving us back with our daily man suits, until it comes back and we get to use those silly hopeful and grateful suits.

But it is not only a wave because it comes back, that would be some lame metaphor. You see, the core of it has to do a lot with water's natural movements. Every time a wave hits shore, it doesn't bring the same grains of sand it took, and it's not either a system where it brings brand new sand. It is because it delivers it after a messy, revolving and chaotic mixture and collision of grains, every time.

What does sand and chaos have to do with Christmas time? Everything

Because it is not only about that year, it's about doing the same turkey you ate the year Granpa died. It is putting the same decoration you saw when you got your first bike. It is the same band of cider you got tipsy for the first time. And I'm very aware that this doesn't apply to everyone, but you get the point.

It is the time when all those memories, all those mementos and scars from the past, haunting or blessing, they come back. Every time with a different intensity, every time remembering different things. All those memories revolving, mixing and colliding. Just like the wave, and just like the waves they go back to that box marked "Christmas stuff" in you attic. We don't choose if those grains of sand are going to open old wounds or relieve childhood fantasies, it's only the risk of our wavey Christmases.


[looking at Christmas differently since 19**]
By I'm the penguin

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