I find it harder to breathe during this time of year, and not just due to the Florida humidity.
So many memories of you both from this time of year play over and over again in my mind.
Mom: I remember begging you to put up lights and Christmas decorations as early as it was socially acceptable. You'd pick up every "Noel" decoration you could justify spending money on when it was marked down on clearance (usually after the holiday was over--that was where your good bargains always happened and you made sure to share that with the world.) When rope lights became mainstream and I came up with the brilliant idea to deck the hill in our front lawn at dad's with "Noelle" written across it, dad just rolled his eyes...but mom, you thought it was just an expression of my creative side.
Your favorite version of "my" song was Josh Groban's, and you'd cry when he hit the high notes. But then again, you would also cry during a good firework display, so those tear ducts were often working overtime anyway.
You loved Christmas; not for the presents or the material things (especially those not found on a clearance rack), but because you loved your family and you loved all of us being together and just enjoying the company of one another. I can still hear you and Aunt Threse singing and dancing along to "Sisters" from White Christmas--your favorite movie of the season, but While You Were Sleeping, It's A Wonderful Life and a Christmas Story were also near and dear to your heart.
Dad, you were always more subdued about your love for Christmas. You often talked about how you were waiting for them to roll out a hologram tree so you didn't have to do any of the pain in the butt decorative work. But every year, you humored me by putting up icicle lights along the roof of our house while I'd stand by and probably not do half the work I had promised.
I remember stringing popcorn to wrap around the tree and making paper chains together when I was a kid, before cuddling up in your lazy boy with you and falling asleep watching China Beach. I remember how you always tried to spoil me with whatever it was that landed on my Christmas list any given year. One year, in true English major fashion, you and mom told me if I could write a convincing theme like Ralphy did in A Christmas Story, you would consider getting me the puppy I had been begging you both for. Either my theme was convincing or you had already planned on getting me the pup anyway, but a few weeks later we were taking a trip to the local SPCA to pick out my puppy.
Every Christmas Eve, no matter how old we were and up until just last year, you'd tell us Santa had dropped off our pajamas. When we were kids, it was after our Polish Christmas Eve traditions with your family, with the 7 fish and the Oplatek. And as we got older, it was after we spent time with Aunt Leslie and her family. You could only ever handle the smell of her delicious fried food concoctions for so long, but you really loved the people who had become a part of mom's extended family just as much as mom did.
Though our traditions changed throughout the years, especially as we got older (I still remember you and Neal coming to SeaWorld a few years ago to see all the shows while I closed--I'm so glad you had a chance to experience that.) you held firm to two very important traditions: the aforementioned Christmas Eve Pajamas, and finding Aunt Laura the ugliest ornament on the shelves each year. That tradition started one year when you came home with a (discounted) Pier One ornament and said you had decided Aunt Laura would be absolutely appalled at such a creation, so you would have to bring it to the Reitmeyer Christmas party. It started a tradition that you absolutely loved and left Aunt Laura just speechless each and every year.
You both always spoiled me with more than I'm sure I deserved at times. All you ever wanted was to make not just the holidays, but the world bright for Neal and for me. All these years later, I couldn't tell you what I got every year or why I even wanted it. But I can describe in detail the feelings and the memories surrounding this time of year, and they will live on in me forever. When the air seems a little heavier and I'm missing you both, I will cling to those memories and I will hold them tight. Thank you for giving them to me, they are one of my most cherished possessions.
