Thanksgiving week, we moved from NY to TX. With the family traveling down to spend the holidays, I had to make some-things appear normal amidst my inner upset and chaos.
I searched plastic bins and located our traditional Christmas stockings. Despite elevating stress, unpacking and coming down with a flu I’m still battling, I made each of my adult children their favorite Christmas cookie and wrapped pretty gifts. Last but not least, I finally discovered my Christmas sweaters and shirts in an unmarked box.
This is where it got weird.
It was so dang hot the week before and during Christmas week, the central air was required in the house. Within ten minutes of happily donning my first Christmas shirt of the season, I ripped off the bright sapphire blue, three-star sparkle, long-sleeve and put on a tank top.
I tried again the next day when the temp dropped a few degrees – this time with a time-honored tradition of wearing my amazing (old school quality) LandsEnd top from decades ago: a hefty red, embroidered sweater I’ve worn every single year for twenty+, cutting down a fresh Christmas tree. I have annual photos in that sweater and it is not ratty, nor fraying at all.
There would be no pine tree this year, as we die-hard tree cutters don’t believe in buying them already cut, having been transferred on a truck for who knows how long, then placed in (hot) water on the street corner. My husband suspects they’ll drop needles within days.
Our daughter’s Texas in-laws couldn’t comprehend our missing the annual tree-cutting ceremony, complete with hot chocolate and taking photos on the sleigh while your tree is being tied up for the roof of your vehicle. After all, wasn’t sun and walking in shorts outside so much better than trekking through the three feet of snow on the ground back home?
They have experienced warm weather versions of Christmas fun, such as our truly delightful 12-Days of Drover at the Dover Hotel in Ft. Worth last year, but not the frigid, rosy cheeks and nose, climbing-through-the-snow-for-an-hour-to-find-that-tree quest.
There is so much attached to that one tradition. How we dress: whether our snowsuits will be required, or just parkas. What day all can go: kids have careers and significant others so planning is required, but everyone has adopted the tradition and love the adventure! Taking part in the wintry pomp and circumstance: must eat the frosted cookies, drink hot chocolate and take too many photos.
Those around me this season thought me quite bizarre when mentioning that we have always prayed for snow each December! The few “green Christmases” without the white? Well, cutting down a tree wasn’t nearly as Christmassy.
My Texas son-in-law shakes his head, affirming we are crazy people.
Both states offer our family great fun. We’re just ridiculously accustomed to cold at Christmas.
This year…
No salt stain lining my leather boots;
snow boots not required
Nice no snow to brush off the cars;
but I ask, “Is 80° really desired?”
In the month of nostalgia that is tied to weather;
can they understand how cold brings us together?
Where is Frosty, Snow Miser and Jack Frost?
without them this year, I’m feeling a bit lost
Not missing whipping wind nor slippery roads;
but what is this sight greeting me at Lowes?
Not a snow blower outside, nor one single shovel;
instead, a line of summer Adirondack chairs
leaving me utterly puzzled.
Thank you for reading and Happy 1st full week of the New Year!
Tales from a Mid-Lifer 
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