I have rarely been excused for a holiday guy. It took the better part of today (and a helpful reminder from NPR) to realize that I had yet to wish my adoptive sister a happy Hanukkah. Moreover, despite growing up in Manhattan, I still don’t know how to spell that word—or if it should actually begin with a C. I love the holidays, but I’m not very good at them. This I why it helps to have a partner who cares.
Today I made merry. I carefully hung lights—abandoning my tradiotonally rushed and haphazzard placement for patient deliberation and meaningful detail. I helped make the House festive. Though the bulk of the work was her doing, I felt a part of it and through that a part of what makes the holiday joyous.
The preparation for Xmas ought not to be treated as a chore but a celebration. You get to show off your lights and decorate a tree. You get the privilege of making merry. This only happens once a year. The decorations we use for Halloween have a far more nefarious purpose in design and execution. Christmas is about joy, wonder, and possibility. At one point we all hoped we were nice and not naughty. We wished for a merry Xmas, a happy Hanukkah, a bountiful Nee year. The ritual of preparation is our own hoop dance towards those causes.
This year I mean to prepare my house with passion. Perhaps it will earn me good tidings for the holidays nd new year, but truthfully what I ask is minimal. I ask only that I can enjoy the moments making the house ready—making the house merry.