it's dark in the house, but i have lit a candle. it's me and the cat, alone again tonight.
i never thought this would be how i'd spend my evenings in my mid-20's glory days (aren't i supposed to be out partying and racking up credit card debt or something?). i never thought i'd just stare at the flame of a discount candle on a friday night, wearing an old pair of sweatpants and debating an early retirement to bed this evening. i never thought i'd be the one to break into not just tears but full on sobs over practically nothing multiple times a week. i never thought i'd be weak and lonely and so unsure of everything that i've always been sure of, yet so sure of everything that's always been unknown. i never thought i'd be able to trust someone i've only known for a year and a half enough to tell them "i love you" like i've done for so long now, believing it with every ounce of me. i've never trusted someone enough to move in with them and combine finances with them and add their name to my car's title, not to mention taking their name as my own (basically all simultaneously). i never, ever thought i'd have to go months without hearing my husband's voice.
it's Christmas and all i'm doing these days is minimally surviving, trying to make it through. i bought presents for my family and his, wrapped them, bought and signed cards, mailed them all in the timely fashion and even got tracking numbers. i sent extra money to charity. i bought my husband an ornament, but unlike most wives, the box in which it rests is in the closet, where it will remain well past the holiday season.
fact is, even though i have "not celebrated" Christmas twice already in my adult life, this will by far be the most difficult. the two previous occasions were my own choice, my own adventure. nothing would make me more excited than to get a "d & k first Christmas 2012" ornament. but, you see, this won't be our first Christmas. sure it's the first time the day will pass since we've been married, but we will not spend it together, nor even in the same timezone. i don't even know what timezone he's in.
i have a tree, and a shoebox of ornaments we bought last year on vetran's day because we were so happy to have someone for the holidays and the target ad that week had advertised that the first shipment of Christmas merchandise was for sale. we set up the tree at my house and we slowly accumulated brightly wrapped presents with crinkly bows under it, and the weekend before i went home for Christmas (he had to stay here and work, plus his brother flew out for the holidays) we opened them together while listening to the pandora Christmas station. we made Christmas cookies and while eating them admired our pretty, twinkly lights and then drove around and admired other people's pretty, twinkly lights. my friend found us the perfect angel for our tree at a craft fair, after i'd complained to her how i couldn't find one i liked anywhere. all these memories stay safely tucked inside their box this year.
i thought about going home again this year. i envisioned myself getting on the plane and red-eyeing (because that's the only flight there is between here and there) it there, driving home, going through the motions of holly jolly. and it was suffocating, the mere notion made me anxious. i thought of all the people i'd run into, friends with honest, curious, well-intentioned questions that i'd have to answer, somehow, with a smile. i thought about not having the safety of my daily routine filled with people who know exactly what i'm going through, who don't ask questions, who accept my moodiness. i just could not do it, couldn't make myself buy that ticket. i know my mom wishes i'd come home, and it is very difficult to even explain to myself why i just emotionally can't go. i wish i was that strong, but i am weak and tired and oftentimes fragile (handle with care) these days.
we won't celebrate here until he comes home, whenever that will be. we'll put up the tree together and our brightly wrapped presents will go underneath. we'll make cookies and play music and stare at the lights. i'm going to hold onto the cards people have sent us so we can enjoy them together, buy some discounted pine-scented candles and sparkly snowmen and penguins wearing scarves when they all go on sale. on Christmas i will go to work, and after work i will come home to a quiet house and a striped cat, and let it be.
