Misplaced Matriarch finds the seasonal line

I’m not ready for Mariah, but my seasonal “feels” are awake.

I’m not a school-supplies-in-July, sweaters-in-August, Christmas-after-Halloween kind of gal. Never have been. Something will awaken the seasonal “feels” in me, but it’s never early and rarely dictated by capitalism.

When Mariah Carey’s “All I want for Christmas” greeted my ears November 1st in the supermarket, however, I nearly walked out in protest.

The anger got me. Normally, I don’t care what the retail world does.

Granted, these are my first months away from Michigan and my family, which makes these the first holidays as a Misplaced Matriarch. Then again, it could just be my middle-aged brain, which struggles with time, especially the cyclical stuff. “This already?” and “What did we do last year?” are more frustrating questions than I want to admit.

Whatever the reason, I was relieved only one neighbor went Christmas crazy the first week of November. Luckily, their lights looked more orange than red and purple than blue. Reindeer aside, it could easily have been Hungover Halloween or Tone-Deaf Thanksgiving.

My husband laughed when I pointed it out, asking what we should do with our yard.

I shrugged.

The second week of November, I drove to our Michigan home wearing shorts, as it was an unseasonable 75 degrees. My husband suggested I bring back some fall decorations, maybe the snowman puffy. I returned to our Illinois home two days later wearing everything in my suitcase, as it was a seasonable 35 degrees.

I did not bring back decorations or the snowman.

The temperature kept dropping. One morning, I awoke to a frosted world and a roaring furnace. By sunrise, snow began to fall – fat, heavy, and melting on impact. That night my husband suggested we buy a new Christmas Tree, one that fit this house.

Sure. But not yet.

The next morning, the frost was back and the snow started to stick. I watched it fall outside my bedroom window for several minutes. I’ve been watching snow my whole life, but this was a new window with a new treeline and new roofs. I walked my deckless halls to see the view out the living room window, then the back window. I was wondering if we had candles when my dog pushed his toy against my leg.

Time for his walk.

Snow has a crispness you can taste in the back of your throat. I felt buoyant as we walked, enjoying the sting and the silence and the sight of the dog’s breath.

I came home craving stew. I snuggled into heavy socks and zipped up my favorite hoodie. I took out the crock pot, humming while cutting root vegetables. I poured a cup of coffee and held it in my hands while I gazed out the window.

Then, I turned on the lights.

We have year-round LED lights in our front window. You can change their colors, which are currently a non-affiliated yellow. That morning, against the snow, they appeared more green than gold.

I thought about loved ones and sweaters and the small pumpkin I had purchased for pie. I thought about cinnamon and cloves and cranberries. I thought about where the Christmas Tree would go when we bought it.

I’m not ready for Mariah, but my seasonal “feels” are awake.

Photo by Ioana Kortis on Unsplash