I've just woken up from a long sleep on the couch. I passed out before the movie even got under way. It's now ten in the morning. I never sleep till ten. I definitely needed the sleep.
On Christmas eve I packed up the dog's things (bed, bowls, toys, bones) as well as a few things of my own, and drove out to my mom's place in Steinbach. Dinner, presents, trying to get two dogs settled in the garage, up till 2, up again at 8.
The next morning we packed up the dogs things again, as well as our own, and hit the road for my dad's place. There were some more presents, movies, food, movies, food, a walk around town, more food, a restless sleep on the couch, up again at 8.
At this point there was yelling and shrieking and fighting so by 1 Chifunda and I slipped out of the house during a brief respite in the christmas cheer. Back to Steinbach. Then to another town for a family gathering. Finally after all the runaround I packed up the dog one more time and we came home.
Coming home...... is a wonderful thing. I used to feel homeless, transient, even when I lived with my parents, there was no place that was mine, where I was safe. No place that could swallow me up into itself.... no place that makes the bittersweet chaos of the holidays with my family instantly disappear.
For the last time I unpacked the dog's things, hauled bags and boxes of christmas regurgitation into the dark house. Turned on the heat. Turned on the computer. Turned on the TV. Within five minutes the dog was contentedly devouring the rawhide bone that she'd ignored for the last 3 days. I sat down to finish the St. Petersburg chapter of Hitman: Silent Assassins..... which is a Playstation game which is fun because when you shoot people, their blood splatters on the wall behind them.
And just like that, it all goes away.
The holidays.... any holidays...... serve as a reminder of so many things that I'd rather forget. As much as I'd like to put my childhood into a box and express post it to Siberia, they send it right back to me every christmas.
But right now I'm a grown-up person who lives in Winnipeg and has a job and a car and a dog and conducts functional relationships. I'm not sure why they always want to take that away from me.
I guess they just don't know. So alone in my home I have a good cry and send christmas on it's way. Like every year.
On Christmas eve I packed up the dog's things (bed, bowls, toys, bones) as well as a few things of my own, and drove out to my mom's place in Steinbach. Dinner, presents, trying to get two dogs settled in the garage, up till 2, up again at 8.
The next morning we packed up the dogs things again, as well as our own, and hit the road for my dad's place. There were some more presents, movies, food, movies, food, a walk around town, more food, a restless sleep on the couch, up again at 8.
At this point there was yelling and shrieking and fighting so by 1 Chifunda and I slipped out of the house during a brief respite in the christmas cheer. Back to Steinbach. Then to another town for a family gathering. Finally after all the runaround I packed up the dog one more time and we came home.
Coming home...... is a wonderful thing. I used to feel homeless, transient, even when I lived with my parents, there was no place that was mine, where I was safe. No place that could swallow me up into itself.... no place that makes the bittersweet chaos of the holidays with my family instantly disappear.
For the last time I unpacked the dog's things, hauled bags and boxes of christmas regurgitation into the dark house. Turned on the heat. Turned on the computer. Turned on the TV. Within five minutes the dog was contentedly devouring the rawhide bone that she'd ignored for the last 3 days. I sat down to finish the St. Petersburg chapter of Hitman: Silent Assassins..... which is a Playstation game which is fun because when you shoot people, their blood splatters on the wall behind them.
And just like that, it all goes away.
The holidays.... any holidays...... serve as a reminder of so many things that I'd rather forget. As much as I'd like to put my childhood into a box and express post it to Siberia, they send it right back to me every christmas.
But right now I'm a grown-up person who lives in Winnipeg and has a job and a car and a dog and conducts functional relationships. I'm not sure why they always want to take that away from me.
I guess they just don't know. So alone in my home I have a good cry and send christmas on it's way. Like every year.
