Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
I am feeling nostalgic. When I was a little girl, we sometimes would take the trolley into downtown Pittsburgh, PA around Christmas time. We would get red pistachios which would dye our fingers red, as my sister and I would try to fit them on our hands so that the shells would look like brightly painted red fingernails. We then would go from window to window to look at the magical, wondrous displays at all of the major department stores as the snow softly fell on our wooly winter coats. It was such a special time . . . .
Hi friends. I don’t think that this past full week of the new year is what any of us were aiming for, to start the year out right. These are strange times which we are going through. However, we are not alone. We are experiencing a lot of “stuff”, together. I am grateful to commune with all of you, as we navigate another year of our lives, together. My regular readers know that I dedicate Sundays to poetry. Please share your poems (they are there, in your heart – put a pen in your hand and let them flow out. You will be pleasantly surprised – “Shakespeare’s a poet, and doesn’t know it”) in my Comments section. Today I wrote this poem (I hope that you may relate, and that you can enjoy some familiarity, with me):
Pat (Our “Elf on the Shelf” – on an aside, Pat is named Pat because Pat is gender fluid. Some years Pat is a girl elf and some years Pat is a boy elf. It all depends if Pat wears the skirt or not, on any particular year. Also, sometimes Pat wears a skirt when Pat is a boy elf and that is perfectly okay, too.)
Pat – So, we need to talk about my retirement options.
Me – (under my breath) – Oh thank you, God.
Pat – Your kids are aging out of this little tradition of ours. In fact, I’d say they aged out a few years ago, but I get it, the youngest kids hang on to their childhoods for dear life. They think that their parents may fall apart if they don’t. That’s a heavy weight for the youngest children to bear. And let’s be honest, you’ve been a tad lackadaisical with your part of the bargain, lady, the last few years. Last Christmastime, I think that you moved me twice, the whole damn season, and the second time that you moved me, was only to put me into my box, so I that could fry up in the attic, like a pathetic little chicken nugget, for whole other year. I need a change of scenery, ya know? I need a cool off period.
Me – (giddy underneath my cool exterior) Pat, I understand. I totally appreciate what you have brought to our holiday fun, but everything has its season. Pat, truly I understand, and I support your decision, 100 percent. I mean that, Pat, from the very depths of my heart. I REALLY mean it.
Pat – You know, lady, I don’t think that you did fully appreciate me and my efforts, all of these years. You constantly cursed about me. You’d wake up in a panic, in the middle of the night, grab me roughly and then you would just throw me awkwardly in some other space. Sometimes I’d end up on one of the dogs’ jaws of death, wondering if that smelly, gross, nasty dog toy basket, was going to be my next home, along with the legless, earless bunny (probably a former Easter Bunny, but we’ll never know).
Me – (with some forced effort) Oh come on, Pat, we had a lot of fun. Pat! Now Pat, we got really creative with some of your “spots.” You had some great photo opportunity poses over the years. We even took you on some of our trips.
Pat – (ignoring me, eyes gazing into the distant horizon) I’m one of the originals, you know. I was born in 2004, the same year which your wonderful daughter was born. We grew up together. We spent every Christmas together and she prided herself in looking for me, and finding me, before she even sat down to her bowl of Lucky Charms, every single December morning, year after year after year.
Me – I know, Pat. It was definitely cute to watch. She would get so excited to find you. Even the older boys would get in on the fun. It really did add a little extra magic (extra work and stress, too, let’s not forget, or try to sugar coat the situation), but you definitely did add some extra magic to the holiday season. Thank you, Pat, really.
Pat – Okay, well, I already live in Florida, so we’ve got the retirement place to live already figured out. I’ll take my pension in candy canes. I like those Sour Patch Kid flavored ones.
Me – (thinking to myself, hmmm, so that explains where all of the Sour Patch candy canes went) Okay, Pat. So this will be your last year then, with the family? Then you will be moving on, for good?
Pat – WTF?! No, lady. I’m talking NOW. Sayonara. This has been a stressful year as it is – I don’t think that I could take another year of work, precariously dangling from your chandelier, by a thread (literally) and then, practically melting my precious little plastic face, from the heat. I’m not into artificial lighting anymore. I’m headed to the beach.
Me – (feeling a little queasy and dare I say, sad?! in my tummy) – Oh, um, well, Pat, this is a little short notice. Don’t you think? I mean, I, I mean, my daughter (or course, not me, ha ha ha), obviously needs some time to adjust to this news and to this change. I think losing you, Pat, needs some explaining and some contemplation time and some slow acceptance that everyone’s getting older and that traditions change, – you know, all for my daughter, of course (not for me ha ha ha ha ha). Plus, Pat, the virus . . . .
Pat – Don’t pretend like you like me, lady. Don’t pretend like you care. You’re always talking about simplifying your life. Here’s your chance, lady. One more little elf, off of the Christmas to-do list. I’ll tell you what, why don’t you just put out the wreath, and call it a day.
Me – Pat, I do like you. I really like you. I really think that you need to stay on for just ONE more year. For my daughter, of course. One more year, Pat, that’s it.
Pat – I don’t know. The NorthPolicare health benefits are available to me now.
Me – Okay, Pat, enough of this BS. What’s it going to take, Pat? What’s it going to take for you to stay just one more year?!? Have a heart, Pat. Please! Pat, it’s Christmas!
Pat – I don’t know. If stay around, you may never let me leave. I might end up having to entertain your future grandchildren, for Pete’s sake.
Me – Oh, come on, Pat. You know that I don’t like you that much (sometimes, I hardly like you at all). Will a few extra boxes of Sour Patch Kid candy canes help to seal the deal?!
Pat– (sighs dramatically) I suppose so. But only for your daughter’s sake.
Me – Thank you, Pat, thank you! (Also thinking to myself – OMG, what just happened?!? Did I just beg that damn Elf on the Shelf to stay?!? Have I completely lost my mind for good? That stupid Pat sure knows how to play the heart strings, that’s for sure. It must be Christmas magic. I’d better put candy canes on the shopping list, so I don’t forget. Pat’s acting a little bit like an angry South Pole elf. Hmmm, South Pole elves must be real . . . . )
