God Save the Queen.
Happy December 26th. It’s Saturday. The day after Christmas. Boxing Day, if you are a Britophile. Although, sadly, I recently learned that Boxing Day is apparently moved to Monday if the 26th falls on a weekend. A pity…but we shall still pretend it’s today, for the sake of this posting.
So, I’ve been very weepy this Christmas. Because, as many of you know…I am a holiday widow. And that is not some sort of stupid euphemism…like being a “football widow” or a “Guitar Hero widow.” I mean, please. When I see those things in print, it makes me cringe. The word widow should not be thrown around so loosely. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I realize how much it pisses me off.
Back to Christmas. I was feeling weepy yesterday and today …and then I sat myself down and did a little reassessment of my sitution. And in the end, after a bit of reflection, I felt rather pleased with the state of my life this particular December 26th.
And so, to recap…I submit the following:
Seven years ago today, I was watching the funeral home men as they carried the body of the man I loved down the stairs from our bedroom and out the front door of our house. Our beautiful little Beatrix Potter-esque house in the woods …in a Boston suburb.
Six, five, four, three and two years ago today…well, quite honestly, I really have no recollection of what the hell I was doing. But I imagine it involved a goodly amount of Kleenex. And crying in the bathroom so my children wouldn’t be reminded of the anniversary of their daddy’s death.
One year ago today…oh, I can tell you exactly what I was doing one year ago today. I was meticulously gift-wrapping a $45 pair of socks from a venerable men’s shop…in Portland, Maine. Imported British socks, purchased for a man who was preparing to whisk me away for a romantic post-Christmas weekend which would end in disaster. The likes of which I could not have conjured up in my most deviant of nightmares.
This year, on the day after Christmas, I went to my favorite high-quality toy store and spent $45 on Playmobil stuff. For me! All sorts of goodies…which I will soon be using as props in an upcoming (and fabulously entertaining) video. About dating. And dead men. And men with mental disorders. And imported socks.
All I know is, it’s the 26th day of December…and I am not on the verge of burying a husband…nor am I gift wrapping ridiculously overpriced, imported socks for a man whose psychiatrist’s number would ultimately end up on speed-dial in my cell phone.
Life is on the upswing. And that little Playmobil guy I bought is looking like he might make a good New Year’s Eve date.
God save the Queen!
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