December 23, 2020
I always used to treasure
those rare times when in the winter, and late at night, I would step outside. Snow
would be falling, and all around, in the midst of this ever-growing town of
ours, the silence that wrapped around me seemed almost otherworldly.
I’d sink into that silence,
become as one with it, and marvel at the beauty of the crisp air and the
sweetly dancing snow that seemed to celebrate its way down to earth. Those were
wondrous times, a beautiful break in the midst of a very busy and hectic life.
And never more so than in the last few days before Christmas, when busy was the
understatement of the year.
One other time I recall being
aware of what felt like an unnatural silence was in the few days following
9/11. I worked in a small town about 20 minutes away from home, in the accounting
office of a factory. In those days I was a smoker, and the company provided a
picnic table outside for those of us who insisted on trying to destroy our
lungs. But the factory was situated on the approach of two regional airports
and the larger, international one in Toronto.
I hadn’t realized how many
planes would be over head at any given time, until there were no planes to
listen for at all. It was such a moment that I recall it exactly even today.
That strange and otherworldly
kind of silent moment, that’s what this Christmas is turning out to be like,
isn’t it? Here in Ontario, we’ll be in lock down beginning Boxing Day—December 26th.
Even so, very few people I know of are planning any large family gatherings for
the holiday.
There’s no joking on the radio
or among friends and family about Christmas shopping, or all the associated
chatter with malls versus online, crowded parking lots, or getting stuck in a
massive crowd trying to find the perfect gift. There’s no worrying about the
annual holiday feast or making a list before a last-minute run to the liquor
store to ensure you don’t run out of libations. The radio airwaves may still
feature messages about drinking and driving, but I haven’t heard any. Of
course, I haven’t been in the car and I must confess that tends to be where I listen
to the radio.
Here, in the Ashbury
household, it will be just the three of us humans and our six little fur babies.
Later, when the lockdown is lifted, we’re hoping to indulge in turkey at our
Sonja’s; we’ve always done that this time of year but really, never on
Christmas day itself, so in that respect that’s no different. One year, we didn’t
have our “family Christmas supper” until April! The major difference, of
course, is when it happens it will be a much, much smaller group who gathers.
So, looking forward to that (eventual)
wonderful turkey (our Sonja makes the best in the family), we are instead
having a prime rib roast on Christmas Day. We’ll have baked potatoes, and
cauliflower with cheese sauce. I will indeed make the annual carrot pudding, a
steamed confection my family loves. And that’s it. But considering how so many
people in North America are going hungry, that’s a feast—and one which we will
be very grateful to have.
I expect to speak to our
oldest, our son on Christmas Day, and I know I will be in touch via text with
every one of my grandchildren. I may get momentarily sentimental and play a few
Christmas carols on my computer, but otherwise, I know that both Christmas Eve
and Christmas night will find me in my living room, legs up as I relax in my
recliner, blanket on my lap and my e-book open and resting atop it.
The other major gathering we
would attend during this season, David and I, was the Boxing Day brunch that my
brother and his wife hosted each year. Last year, his sons did the cooking for
all of us. This year, of course, we were already not going to have this event
before the pandemic. This will be our first Christmas without my brother—my first
ever without him. That one fact had already guaranteed that this year
would be slightly less bright than last. In that way, I’ve been prepared for a
quieter Christmas since February 29th.
Life all around us seems to
have paused and quieted on such a regular basis this year already, it’s
becoming the norm and not the exception it once was. And all by itself, a
slowing down of every day life is not a bad thing at all. Of course, the reason
for all this quiet is not a good thing. Too many have fallen ill, and far too
many have died.
And too many more people,
people who work hard day after day after day hear little during their days save
for the constant, droning sound of medical monitors and equipment working to
keep other people alive.
The truth of the matter is
that we’ve used symbols and images to represent a season, instead of letting
the season be its own representative. We’ve focused on those trappings instead
of keeping the reason for them at the center.
Christmas is celebrated
because long ago on a dark night, amid the silence of the world readying for
sleep, a baby was born—a baby destined to grow into a man who would, by the
sacrifice of his life, become the savior of the world.
A joyfully solemn event, that
needs only an open and grateful and submissive heart in order to be properly commemorated.
David and I wish you all the
joy your hearts can hold, a few tears so that the joy becomes extra sweet, and
that you always, always, wear your damn masks.
Love,
Morgan
http://www.bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury
No comments:
Post a Comment