December 20, 2010


Since I was a little girl, I used to love Christmas. My family and I were a very very restricted Club: my father, my mom and my three sisters. And Christmas Eve was happily resumed to the six of us. Of course, along the years, our very important Club has given away some very thoughtful and well deserved memberships. First to my brothers in low, and then to my precious nephew. Unfortunately, some lost their memberships, but luckily we always managed to rebound it, and keep our exclusive reputation intact. Having that said, I don't need to explain to you guys how honoured I was to belong to such a Club, that only get together once a year. Okay, but I want to!

Our rituals started in the morning, when I remembered waking up to the unmistakable smell of cinnamon and lemon zest... my mom had already started to make some deserts! That was my cue to go and lick the pot of the rice pudding. And boy, I was very good at it! My sisters and I knew exactly our tasks and they were beautifully orchestrated by the different smells of cinnamon, pumpkin and chocolate along the day. My mom was the maestro and we were the symphony!
Sating up the table it meant that we were approaching the climax of our annual reunion. We always kept our rituals and traditions pretty intact, and as much as we disliked the main course - boiled cod, potatoes and kale - on that day, it tasted like a peace of Heaven. After dinner we would getter around the television pretending we were not that interested in the sound of the mid night clock. Our presents were never under the Xmas tree. Right before mid night, they would mysteriously appear, next to some other presents, as if they had always been there. And we just acknowledge their presence because of the smell of fresh raping paper! Oh sweet innocence...

But along the years there was always a threat above our special annual gathering. Somehow, something bad would happen with the intention of spoiling Xmas. It is a time, and I don't know why, in which awful things tend to happen to my family, I won't even bother to nominate them. But the truth is, we always make it through, and as much as I could hate Xmas because of that, it never got into me. But unfortunately that have changed,,,

Two Christmas ago, something really bad happened to me. Something that, for a girl like me, was capable of stilling my joy and taking away my believe in Xmas. Let's just say, I call it my personal Grinch.
I would never thought in my life, that something like that could happen to me. Not on MY Xmas! I don't know how my family handles this curse! I guess they fake joy after something like that... until they start to believe again. See, the problem is: a month before Xmas Eve, I start to feel funny, disconnected, trying to delay the Holiday. Like if that is possible! And then I get it, "oh, it's Xmas time". Damn it! That was supposed to be something great! Something only worthy of a very special Club... and here I am now, at 5 a.m., unable to sleep because I'm too afraid of having "the" nightmare. It's always the same. Over and over again. It's like those bad movies when you wake up in the same day, the same feeling. I always thought that if something really hurt me in life I would feel an excruciating pain. But it wasn't like that. It was more like a punch in the stomach: you stop breathing because there's no more air left in the world, the sound of life is mute like if all the cars and machines and people stopped moving at the same time just to stare at you, and all your life pass by through your brain like a fast train, that never cared to stop to rescue you. That's the feeling I relive every single night before Christmas... and when I'm awake, it doesn’t get better.

I miss Christmas, I miss the innocence of it, I miss the little girl with rice pudding all over her face because she did such a nice job helping her mom "baking" it. I desperately want my Christmas back. The problem is: I know where my Grinch hid it; I just don't know how I can rescue it...