Day 14

When I was a kid, my family had the typical Christmastime tradition of piling into the car once it was dark, with hot cocoa and blankets in tow, and heading out to "ooh" and "aww" over all of the Christmas lights around the neighborhood. When it was a really special year, we'd even venture out to other neighborhoods around town.

I'm not sure what was so thrilling about this event, looking back. Perhaps it was just the sense of tradition and expectation that left me with this fond memory. Perhaps it was a time where there was little said, yet we were all together and actually enjoyed ourselves. Or maybe it was just the fact that I got to wear my pajamas out in public. No matter the reason, I sort of miss it.

Tonight I attempted a slight twist on the old tradition. I bundled up in layers of jackets, overstuffed mittens, a wool hat, and a headlamp and was set. With little in mind other that to enjoy the Christmas light displays that my neighbors have slaved away at during sub-below temperatures, I was out the door. I decided that my stringed-light window shopping would be done on foot, so to speak, rather than in my car... just to give it my own personal touch.

Traditions are peculiar things. They rarely make any logical sense, yet they are something that the heart yearns desperately for. I suppose it is the notion of togetherness combined with a sort of false assurance that things are always going to be that way which warms people so. In reality it is sort of a scary way to view things-- expecting and hoping that next year will be the same as the last? Whatever the security of these traditions, they bring people together and create memories that outlast any giant gift under the tree. That, I am sure of.

I think it is probably about time that I begin creating some of my own traditions to warm my heart and give me a little unrealistic assurance for tomorrow. It could be fun.