Iowa can be a cold, depressing bitch in the winter. It’s currently 9 °F. That’s up from 5 °F yesterday. We’re talking -20 °F wind chills. Letting my dogs outside to further spread a plague of yellow snow is about unbearable. Walking between classes may in fact freeze over my eyes. Luckily, I’m officially on break.
I love the holidays. Of course, we should maybe narrow that down. I love Christmas. The friends, the family, and the snow. Yeah, snow can be a bitch – but it can be fun as hell too, and I’ve been living here almost 21 years now, so I’ve gotten kind of used to it. Snow means Christmas. Christmas means home. Home means Iowa.
Everyone at some point in their lives has either said or overheard someone talking about hating where they grew up. I’ve touched on this before, but I think it’s important to reiterate that very few people really hate where they’ve come from and when someone honestly feels that uncomfortable with where they grew up than it’s a really sad thing in my eyes. I’m not saying I want to live in small-town Iowa for the rest of my life, but I can see Iowa as some place safe I can always come back to. Safe for me and safe for those around me.
Which brings me to my next point. I’m going to death-stare out of existance the next family member that suggests maybe we should do something different this year for the holidays. You know, a small family trip?
No. I don’t want to go to Florida. I don’t want to go to California. I don’t want to go to any of the gulf states.
You can go without me, and I can assure you that you will be missed while you are gone. I will take pictures of our tree with the presents under it. You can have yours when you get back. You’ll be back in early-to-mid January, so you won’t miss much as far as snow fall. It’ll be here when you get back and for quite some time. We’ll fill in your spots for the string of games we play during the holidays.
There’s not much to be missed – except the newest batch of children. You know how they’re at that perfect age right now? They’ve grown out of the stage where they run around the house, knocking down the nativity scene. They’re not so young that they have to be laid down in front of a movie when it gets late just to pass out five seconds into A Charlie Brown Christmas.
They have genuine smiles on Christmas morning. They wanted every toy in every commercial and every paper ad they saw. They have no idea what they’re getting, but they’ll freak out when they get it.
It’s a horrible time to be anywhere but home for the holidays. With a family as big as mine, it may not ever be. I, for one, am perfectly okay with that.
Merry Christmas friends.
