Christmas, Yuletide, Noël, Nativity, Saint Nicholas, Mary, Prancer,
Santa, Elves, Yule Log, Eggnog, Reindeer, Turkey, Presents, children,
Birthday, Bells, Jesus, pumpkin pie, Navidad, Kriss Kringle, Dasher
Ornaments, stockings, sugarplums, Holidays, caroling, gifts, Comet
Christmas Eve, Scrooge, cranberry sauce, sleigh bells, Rudolph,
Christmas lights, Cinnamon Apple spice cider, wassail, Angels, list,
Christmas tree, Blitzen, Mrs. Claus, tinsel, jolly, snowflake, Dancer,
Blitzen, North Pole, snowman, wreath, candy cane, gingerbread,
Merry Christmas!

I’m spending the Christmas holiday with Lisa and her family in NYC.

My parents are finishing 2021 in Africa, with “Doctors Without Borders.” “Step” (my step father) is a heart surgeon and my mom is an anesthesiologist, so they’re a traveling, self contained, double-dutch, operating theater. Yep, now that they’ve shuffled-off the dead weight of their children - they can finally have some FUN.

Here, in NYC we’re back in restrictive spaces as we face-down Omicron this holiday - but I still feel free. Our course work’s been dumb, but now we’ve escaped the strangling, slavery of tedious days - forget hours of reading, fact-sheets, writing essays, and solving chemistry equations - we’ve got 25 days of Christmas vacation!

Lisa’s having a sleepover tonight, friends Will and Karen are coming up (Lisa lives on the 50th floor, they live on the 46th) and we have every distraction known to man.

Tonight was supposed to be the building (220) Christmas party - a formal wear Christmas ball - with a live orchestra - but now (thanks Omicron) it’s an elevator party - we’ll go up to the 70th floor, pick up goodie bags and dinners then return yo-yo like, to Lisa’s.

We can escape our interior habitat to a large balcony where it’s windy and 34 degrees. The sky is a clear black, like an inverted cup of coffee and the stars look French. The city lights dazzle like a billion stars surrounding the black hole of Central Park.

Lisa’s dad is explaining to Karen (10), in some detail, how his shiny,  deluxe, outdoor barbeque - with it’s lid open like a radar dish, can detect reindeer and send updates to his phone in real-time - but Karen looks skeptical.

I hope you all have a wonderful, safe, Christmas and that the reindeer find you wherever you are.

I’m in a psychology class and as part of it we filled out several, detailed, personality evaluations. They said these were helpful in forming a psychological profile of the freshmen classes each year and of particular interest were these COVID years.

The professor said she’d be available, before finals, to review them with us if we were interested - and I volunteered. So in our review we’re going over my results and she says: “Your trauma history could produce this constellation of wit, wiriness and attachment-anxiety.”

I flinch, irritably, thinking, my “trauma history?” What, “trauma history?” Wondering if - maybe the professor was looking at the wrong paper?

She read my reaction and the consternation on my face, started flipping through the papers, and said, “According to the history you submitted, your father was killed when you were seven and you were hospitalized for...”

“***” I thought, blanking out what she was saying, “How could I have forgotten THAT?” Even for a moment. Then I sag with this oppressive, blanket-like wave of guilt at having put the crash so far out of my mind.

“The dismissal of childhood trauma is quite normal,” she said, putting her hand on my arm, “You have to put trauma out of your everyday thoughts - to get on with your life.” She assured me. “It’s quite normal.”

How many blind sides do I have? I wondered

I want to say I’m sorry - your present looks like that.
It wasn’t kicked by UPS or pummeled with a bat

The master wrappers I prefer, simply aren’t around
A slow economy got them or the covid cut them down.

My boys at Neiman Marcus, I miss those guys so much
and the girls Bergdorf Goodman had such a subtle touch

the lacy Le Bon Marché ribbons, are what set their work apart
no matter where you placed those gifts, they always looked like art

I miss those tasteful craftsmen, but instead of being depressed
I watched some Youtube lessons - and I tried my very best
but the present came out so miserably, I thought I should confess

Remember Christmas shopping?
I mean in stores full of shoppers
- there was music in the air and
some shops had free hot-chocolate
while others offered hot cinnamon
apple-cider and ginger-reindeer cookies

Parents would have to wait outside stores
because the whole expedition was surreptitious
- you shielded your gift bags from prying eyes.
Siblings would offer to help you carry your loot
- as if any respectable kid would fall for THAT.

School choirs competed for applause, caroling in food courts.
A line of excited children would spark my older brother,
Brice, to smirk and tease, “Are you sitting on Santa’s lap this year?”

There was a dazzling neon candy-cane roller-coaster
on the roof of Macy’s called “the pink pig” that we’d
squeeze into - even though it was made for little kids.

I was always in charge of checking the calendar so we’d remember
when my sister would be flying home for college break.

Have a careful Christmas - holly jolly as it can be.
Make memories that will last forever - like favorite songs.

Please, bright holidays - summon irresistible cheer
that dancing souls can celebrate with free hearts.

Let hallow'd observances pass with seasonal soundtracks, tinsel-prismed cascades of multicolored lights and evergreen scents.

Too often these days, our joys seem hostage held
by some fearsome heaviness, like that of a guilty thing.

Give wholesome nights back their power to charm,
enjoy festive feelings, and pass those, as gifts, on to others.

Christmas has been trending and
I chose to play into the parasocial violence,
with no salt or brakes physically and emotionally,
- the holidays - lush and fresh, just hit different.

When I see the lights, the smiles, and get my hugs
I want to cry and throw up from joy at the same time.
The holidays make me believe in love. I don’t care.