So it has begun. It creeps up on me every year and then, bam! it hits me as I’m walking down Broadway and I see all of those wooden racks lined up along the sidewalks. They loom tall reminding me with a sudden push of panic to my stomach that time is getting away from me (wasn’t summer just here?).
I know then, that once I return to the city after eating too much turkey (for reasons I don’t really understand), those racks will be filled with green trees selling for $100 a pop. Soon families after failed attempts at negotiating down the price, will be dragging them home to put up in their cramped apartments until the needles fall off. I’ll watch as they pass me, the branches of their Fraser Fir bouncing as they cross the street, one person at the helm, one bringing up the rear.
This morning, however, everyone was hauling duffle bags and suitcases along the sidewalks as they headed for the subway, I along with them. We stood in silence as the train sped to our offices, eyes glazed over as we remembered quickly the disputes from last year over who was going to bake the pumpkin pie and who was going to bring the cranberry sauce. We tried to mentally prepare ourselves as the memory came flooding back of the incessant questions from relatives about how we can live in a place like New York. Isn’t it too expensive? How do you live? Do you have any money? How are you going to have any savings? Can you ever go on any vacations? Doesn’t it get exhausting? Why do you have to work so much? And when, (for crying out loud), are you going to bring home a significant other? Have you thought at all about online dating or have you just acceptedthefactthatyoumightbealoneforever?
And on, and on, and on.
We’ll endure packed planes and pat-downs, gridlock traffic and kitchen meltdowns, yet every year we throw our bags over our shoulders and once more unto the breach we go. This year I’m seriously questioning it along with the whole of the holiday season. Perhaps it’s my prickly nugget of a soul, but I no longer see the point. It’s always there waiting to ruin the end of my November and entire December by making me proffer gifts and good cheer, pies (yes, the pumpkin pie was me), and an inordinate amount of patience. (Is it even possible to think about what comes after all of it - the weighty unavoidable horror of facing yet another year come and go?).
It’s. all. just. too. much.
So as I left the train I gave a silent nod of understanding to my fellow New Yorkers all on the brink of tomorrow’s mayhem. Yes, my eyes told them, the questions will come but you don’t have to answer. The moment you return to the city the rest of your year will disappear among lots of red and green lights and you’ll think there’s nothing you can do about it. You will be asked to attend office holiday parties and Christmas weddings and at least one terrible Broadway show you can’t afford with a friend visiting from out of town. But take care. You’ve been here before. Know it’s never too late to take a stand against these holiday traditions of yesteryear that rule our lives. Invitations can be declined. Friends and family can still love us even if we don’t buy them an iPad. We don’t have to keep going through the motions when the motions no longer make any sense.
We are New Yorkers (for crying out loud), and if anyone can take back this season, it’s us.
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