soapboxdiner

On the beauty of faking it

'Tis off for X-mas shopping we go, loaded with aspirations of festiveness and promises of (my) joy in this moment that will shape one of (his) childhood memories.

I tell myself to just be okay; to take this too as a moment where opportunity lies before me. A cookie cutter tradition with all the pieces pre-packaged and waiting for me to make them particularly our own.

This is what I tell myself. This is what I work for.

It is only in the overwhelming immensity of background that I struggle with frugality and a panicked sense of over-extension (and therefrom, vulnerability). There lives my penny pinching scrooge and bah humbugging grinch. She is powerful and loud in her protest.

But she is getting weaker, year by year, as I realize my responsibility and what should be my pleasure, to create for a young person a tradition of jubulation and fulfillment and selflessness in giving.

One day he will be all grown up and will look back on these days when he was malleable. His memories are my job to build, which leads me to weigh - just what type of memory do I want to build?

This line of thinking is new. Before I worried about sustenance and survival. I am starting to see how very, very little those things contribute to full living. How so much more important attitude is in regards to a life that is well lived.

Or something like that.

I tell myself to remember that as I go out today. I chastise, "Don't get all wonky and worried and stressed." Or at least hide it and fake it. One day, it won't really be faking at all any more.

12:42 pm - 12.06.03
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