December 25th, 2006
What Christmas was
I’m sitting on the floor alone at a friend’s house, exiled from my own, having come back from another day at the office that ended with the beginning of the next. However, today that day is Christmas. But there is no tree, no warmth, no presents lovingly wrapped or stocking hung with care. There is only bedraggled me among a few dirty clothes piled up on the floor, my thoughts and a half-empty bottle of sparkling wine to celebrate the passage of time.
This is now my Christmas, estranged and lonely, a day in a month like so many others, culture and reflection taking a back seat the fast lane of the game development industry. Holidays, relaxation, time to enjoy the changing seasons, they are all second to the ultimate priority, my responsibility to others.
But things weren’t always this way.
There was a time when Christmas wasn’t a date, or even a commercialized season. Christmas was more than a moment, or a deadline, it was a full year’s worth of hoping, and wishing, and waiting. It was waiting for those glorious six weeks when all I could think about was the tradition and excitement; the glowing warm energy that wove its way into every breath of every day. The lights, the sounds, the food, the anticipation– the old cassette tapes played through my father’s car stereo on our way down US-15 on Thanksgiving Day. The wool sweaters were scratchy and the penny loafers were tight, but I loved it all; because every grain of effort that was put into the preparation reminded us it was special. This was a time of closeness and kinship, a time when no matter how we struggled with uncertainty through the rest of the year, we could take solace in the gathering of family and friends, of counting our blessings and enjoying the fruits of our labor. It was laying under the towering long needle pine ripe with sap. It was staring up at the rings of garland and light, listening to John Denver and the Muppets mingle with the gentle, mechanical whirring of the revolving center in the old, fragile, plastic star perched miles above.
Christmas was always my favorite time of year. It was my favorite because it brought out the best in everything, it was the time I always felt safest and most content. The joy, happiness, and hope of Christmas isn’t for just a group of religious believers, it’s for every man, woman, and child on this earth. For we as living things have all the same natural goals and desires: to be safe, to be happy, to be loved.
Every year I wish for the same thing, just the one simple thing to have peace in my heart. Every year it seems like I get farther away from it, and I wonder how old I have to grow before I find it, or before I break down completely. The dreams of my youth grow fainter with each passing season, and I acquiesce more that this is what it means to be an adult: to accept responsibility with the understanding that things aren’t easy and never turn out like you dream they would. One owes so much to so many others, so one’s life must be lived in repayment of those debts. Maybe it is a man that takes the struggles and pain in stride and smiles, never complaining. It’s those sacrifices that make one respectable, that make one a professional.
But maybe I’m not strong enough to be those things. Maybe I’m just me, a dreamer without the maturity for honest improvement, and so much lesser than that. Maybe this next year I’ll truly accept these things, and stop trying to be something I’m not. Maybe next year I’ll find a Christmas that I don’t let slip by like an ignored utility bill.
I’m sorry I don’t know how to be a grown-up and can’t be the things I think I’m supposed to. I love you. Merry Christmas.
