FOR practical and health reasons, our Christmas celebration this year is a pared-down, almost frugal affair. I find that I prefer it this way.
This used to be the time of year when I would spend hours buying gifts for family, friends, and a few work colleagues. It was a convenient excuse to linger in bookstores, searching for the titles I guessed would fit the recipients’ interests best. And then there were the toy stores and the clothing departments of at least two malls. That was fun, too.
Buying Christmas gifts for godchildren used to be one of the highlights of the season. I know how shallow that sounds, yet it was a real pleasure. It reminded me of the Christmases of my childhood, when the practical gift (like a new dress or books) was supplemented by a stocking stuffer like a small round tin of candies or a large apple. Apples were an uncommon treat, usually available only in December.
I grew up into the kind of Christmas shopper who kept a notebook where I jotted down who had received which book each year. Or what kind of hobby or toy craze my godchildren had picked up. This is not to say I was a good godmother. Not at all. I was terrible at it, quite frankly.
I never got around to knowing my godchildren, beyond asking their parents what they were reading that year or what hobby supplies they wanted. And when I had a falling-out with their parents or simply, in the rush of life, lost touch with them, my Christmas list got one child shorter.
At peak godmotherhood, sometime in my early 30s, I had a Christmas list of more than 25 names. This year, apart from the names of my immediate family, that list is down to two godchildren’s names. I stop giving my godchildren Christmas gifts when they turn 19. After they turn 18, they’re old enough to vote and to get after-school or summer jobs if they want to save up for something.
To the grand production of planning, buying, wrapping, and delivering gifts, add the flurry of yearend parties, and this meant that by the time Christmas Eve rolled around, I was sleep-deprived and practically nodding off as I assembled the fruit salad.
This year, things are different. I’m sure nearly everyone will say the same. The traffic jams are nowhere near as crazy as these got in previous Decembers. If you time your visits right, you can actually find yourself sharing the grocery aisles with no more than one or two other shoppers. This year, my Christmas gift shopping took all of 30 minutes, which is half the time I used to spend just waiting in line at the cashier.
Getting the Christmas groceries took a little longer than half an hour. Yet even then it was much less time than I used to spend in holidays past. Because I am not an economist, I find this relaxing. When you don’t think about how much less retailers are making, in what used to be the most wonderful time of year for most of them, you can appreciate all the extra space. At least you can really keep a safe distance apart.
I wonder what this time next year will feel like, and part of me hopes some things won’t change. Of course, I hope the economy will be more upbeat then, which means consumption would have to pick up more than it has this year. But part of me will miss not having an honest excuse to turn down a holiday party invitation. (What are we going to say, that we’re waiting for the second dose of the vaccine before we go out again?) I hope the traffic won’t get much worse than it is now, though that may not be realistic.
What I truly hope we will save is this sense of having won back some time; time to wrap up the year quietly, without feeling depleted in more than one sense. To feel safer than we do now, yes, but also as clear-eyed about what really matters.