When I came home from school this afternoon, I figured I already knew what I'd write about for the day. I assumed that the most thrilling part of my day was over and now I could retire to the confines of my bedroom with a baguette and a cup of tea. I think what I failed to realize is that even outside of school, life goes on. And as of right now, life is certainly going round & round.It's only December 3rd in sprawling South Florida, yet it's a musty 74 degrees. I think it's this atmospheric dryness, even at evening hours, that makes the winter wonderland outside of my house all the more stunning.
Geographically, my squat little town-house lies on the corner of a semi-busy street which empties out into the heart of suburbia. The only particular relevance of this location is the fact that less than a hundred feet from my front door is a gorgeous public park built to honor war veterans. And, at this very moment, that lovely park is packed full of families and strangers all reveling in the Floridian Christmas cheer.
Complete with inflatable snowmen, decadent lights that melt into one another, and a Rockafeller-sized tree right in the middle of things, the holidays were in full swing a mere hundred feet away. Suburban families hopped around, dads tussling with their kids on the chemgrass, schoolteachers still in uniform drinking hot cocoa, elementary aged kids tugging at their parents for a picture with Santa. Craft vendors attempted to sell mini-Christmas trees and home-stitched stockings, but most of the folks out were crowded around a shell-shaped stage, kids dressed in tartan plaid and Santa hats churning out carols. It felt odd to see such a blatantly Christmasy scene not accompanied by long-sleeved shirts and scarves, but something about the South Florida holiday season is far better than anything the north can provide. We recognize that we will probably never have snowfall so close to the equator, so we improvise with a mess of bubbles lingering around the night air. Instead of frozen ponds, we cover every inch of water with a glaze of foam that stretches right up to your feet. Children wrestle with the bubbles like it's an oversized bathtub while ambitious parents snap digital pictures. No one enjoys the scenery quite as much as these kids. Most just seem overwhelmed, but some have this quiet sense of awe in their eyes; like this is nothing they've ever seen before. They look up towards these floating white masses and reach out with all five fingers, seizing them like candy, and even when they disappear from their grip they're still smiling at the thought of the bubbles being there in the first place. Christmas here, at this park and in all of Florida, is forever magical.
An empty storage room was converted into a holiday kingdom, middle-school aged elfs standing behind card tables lined with cookies. A boy only slightly younger than me is standing behind an orange water-cooler of hot chocolate, pouring a serving size into styrofoam cups.
"How much are they?" I asked him, poking for the five in my back pocket. The traditional Floridian method of handing out anything is that of the carrot and the stick. He stopped what he was doing, looking up at me with this stunned expression usually reserved for deer about to get run over.
"It's free," He said, busying himself with the beverages again. I'm sure that wasn't the first time he heard that, probably from cheap-skate retirees, but I felt ignorant nevertheless. I let go of the five and muttered a humble "oh" to myself. "But the hot chocolate is really hot," He continued, smiling. "So be careful." Without hesitating, he handed me a cup and a supermarket sugar cookie doused in green & red sprinkles. Somehow, in this very action, I felt supremely better; as though this was the Christmas spirit in itself. And maybe it was, not just from the forgiving pick-me-up that cocoa and cookies can provide, but from the understanding and compassion from total strangers. From no one pushing in line to get to the sweets and everyone with nothing less than a smile on their face. Everyone around me seems cheerily complacent, docile, most stumbling upon this Christmas miracle by accident and purposely slowing down their busy lives just to take a look around.
As I walked back towards my shamefully undecorated town-house, I listened in to a small family seated on a nearby park bench. The father, holding one son by his shoulders & the other standing near, stared emptily at the two with a mix of disdain and exhaustion. Both of the boys were silent, simply staring at their father with sorrowful expressions. I couldn't even begin to guess what had happened; maybe the boys had run underfoot and ran head-on into someone? Perhaps they had run off in their excitement and left their worried parents searching frantically?
No one spoke for empty seconds. And when the father did finally speak, I expected a scathing tone and vicious words.
Instead, I got a simple phrase whispered cheerily.
"I think the only way to fix this is to get pizza." The two boys lit up, confused, but thrilled nevertheless. "How does that sound?" Both cried out in approval, jumping up and down as though there was no possible way to contain their excitement. They dove into their father's arms as I passed, and for a moment it was all I could do to keep myself from grinning. All the way home, I couldn't wipe this ear-to-ear smile off of my face.
Something about Christmas time has this calming effect on people, like Tryptophan or Catnip for the upright hominids. For some reason, no other holiday can replicate this kind of togetherness. Even the families that pull at each others nerves seem to complement each other around this time of year, and those that are separated always find a way to come together again. People rotate around each other during this season, like ice skaters going round & round. They connect, even in the smallest of instances, whether it be a smile towards the cashier at the supermarket or thanking that stranger for holding the door. It's the odd little things that hold us together like glue. Being generally sacrilegious, I can't exactly relate to the spiritual aspect of the Christmas season, but maybe this is just our global excuse to be happy. Maybe Christmas is the only way we can figure out to slow things down and take a deep breath, examining what we have and what we love. This is our way to put everything aside and just be genuinely happy for as long as we possibly can. We need a time like this, because when you think about it, the holiday season is like those dazzling bubbles just out of our reach. As soon as we lay hands on them, they seem to disappear.
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