This was Praveena’s and my fourth Christmas together,
yet it was our first spent as husband and wife. It was also our first (together
and individually) without gifts. Praveena and I had decided that since we’d
given and received so many gifts around our wedding, we’d gladly eschew presents
in favour of the more important, less material aspects of Christmas. My sister
Jenny was totally ecstatic with this plan, eager to leave gifts out of the
equation and focus instead on the really important stuff: peace, love, joy and
prosecco.
Other than the prosecco part, this line of thinking
didn’t go over so well with my sister Kim or my mom. I explained to them
(several times) that we were all gifted out from our wedding and wanted instead to
focus on family companionship and the mutual breaking of bread. They were
aghast (but unfortunately not speechless) that we were foregoing the
gift-exchange tradition. Kim said she’d finished her Christmas shopping in
November, so she’d already gotten our presents. My mom, on the other hand, just
kept saying, “But it’s Christmas. We always give presents at Christmas.” Maybe
they simply couldn’t understand a Christmas without material gifts.
In the end, both grudgingly accepted our
declaration, more or less. At her Christmas party last weekend, Kim gave us the
gifts she’d bought us and said we should keep them til our respective birthdays.
And at the Christmas Day dinner party, my mom gave us a loaf of panettone and
said we should make French Toast out of it.
Our Christmas Day Dinner is an annual tradition lately
hosted by my mom and stepfather. Praveena’s attended with me since 2014. Last
year’s dinner was the first without my sister’s former husband. And this year’s
was the first without our Gramps, who back in January was released from this
life to be reunited with his wife, our Grandma. In fact, last year’s Christmas
Day Dinner was his final day of relatively good health. The next day, he’d be
admitted to hospital. He’d never come out.
So he was in our thoughts, and the stories flowed.
Kim told us about the time Grandma had surgery in Toronto General. While she
was in the OR, Gramps and Kim went down to the Tim Horton’s. When they got to
the front of the line, Gramps pointed at Kim and said, “This is my wife! She
can have whatever she wants. If she wants a coffee or a doughnut, I’ll get it
for her.”
If that wasn’t bad enough: On the way back up to
the surgical floor in the crowded elevator, he turned to Kim and loudly stated
that he’d figured out the cause of breast cancer. Cringing, Kim shook her head
and begged him to be quiet. Uunfazed, he said, “It’s the boy who squeezes the
boob too tight!” We’ll all miss Gramps, because he’s our patriarch, but also
because his unpredictability, combined with his lack of social filter, often made
him so darned entertaining.
The night before Christmas, we’d stayed at
Praveena’s folks’ place. Armed with several bags of Thai takeout, we’d arrived
in the early afternoon, planning to eat lunch and dinner and watch movies and
other televisual enticements. Between her mom, dad, brother and us, we devoured
the Thai food. In particular, Praveena’s brother Rathieshan offered his stamp
of approval. I wouldn’t exactly call him a foodie, but he is picky. If he enjoyed
it, you can bet we’ll be buying from that restaurant again.
For dessert, Praveena’s mom had made trifle pudding
and Christmas cake. I’ve always loved trifle, and I had two servings before I
realized that I was a) beyond full, and b) the only person still eating. As for
the Christmas cake, I never liked the stuff until I tried Praveena’s mom’s. Now
I have another reason to look forward to Christmas. I don’t care if that makes
me weird. Later, Praveena baked cookies and we ate them. At one point, Rathieshan
came into the kitchen and tried one. “They’re soft,” he said. “You didn’t cook
them long enough. You’re going to get diarrhea.” He spoke as though from experience.
One movie we watched was Home Alone. I’d forgotten
how good it is. (“That’s real crystal. Put ‘em in your purse!”). But reflecting
on how long it had been since I’d seen it reminded me of how old I am. Hopefully
I age as well as MacAulay Culkin. I also enjoyed watching the film with people
who really love the movie as a family Christmas tradition. The easy chuckles
and mimicking of dialogue imbued the TV room with a cozy warmth that was
enhanced by the swirling snowstorm visible through the window.
Another Sivananthan family Christmas tradition: watching
It’s A Wonderful Life. We tuned into
it later that evening. Who can help but love watching Jimmy Stewart? Or maybe
it’s just George Bailey. The guy’s so likeable. Chummy would be a nice descriptor.
Alas, Praveena and I couldn’t watch the whole thing. I had to work early on
Christmas day, so we retired around ten.
And talk about Christmas kindness. Normally only small
children are crazy enough to wake up before sunrise on Christmas Day, but Praveena’s
dad awoke early with us and drove me to work. I would have preferred to not inconvenience
him, but there’s no changing that man’s mind. Traffic was very sensible for a 7am
Monday morning commute. Another reason to wish that Christmas came every day. Fortunately
for Praveena and her dad, they could go home and crawl back into bed. For some
reason, they instead chose to seize the day.
Another Christmas come and gone, bringing with it
the inevitable constant of change. Hello to some things—Christmas as a married
couple, Christmas Eve at Praveena’s folks’ place; goodbye to others—Gramps’ Christmas
presence, gift-giving (for this year, at least). What’s next? The pitter-patter
of little feet? Who doesn’t appreciate a little prosecco and panettone at half past
six on Christmas morning?
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