Until Then, We’ll Have to Muddle Through Somehow

I cry easily.  Tears of joy.  Tears of heartbreak.  I’ve stopped being embarrassed about it; I’m accepting who I am.

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As a child, I loved Saturday mornings.  Unlike now, I woke early, with zeal, to watch cartoons, play Old Maids (no longer politically correct) and Go Fish with my siblings, Scott and Kim, and I dreamed of the day when I would be old enough/smart enough to play Gin Rummy with them. I had high aspirations!  At times we built small cities out of cardboard boxes and used my brother’s  Hot Wheels to drive around our creation; as we passed one another we would wave and say, “Hi, Mac”. That was the totality of the activity!  (Who needs SimCities when you have shoe boxes and siblings?)   Games, Bugs Bunny, and imagination, these were the makings of childhood memories.  My circle of  friends was limited to my brother and sister.  To accommodate my father’s job, we moved constantly, so it was always ‘just us’.  We chronicled three to four schools each year, and one year we hit a record high of seven.  The only constants, aside from moving, were my siblings and parents.   And now, as a former middle-aged woman, I reminisce and cry.  

Of course, holidays stoke the memory embers, memories linked to Scott and Kim.  Waking the day after Thanksgiving to Mom playing Bing Crosby’s Christmas album as she decorated the house.  Making red and green construction-paper chains to drape from wall to wall.  Glitter.  Did I say GLITTER?  Travels to our grandparents’ house.  Cousins. Combining our savings and then shopping at a Five & Dime to painstakingly pick out treasured gifts for our parents and grandparents.  Threatening Kim not to accidently tell everyone what we purchased (she always let it slip).

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Driving down Highway 35 the other day it happened.  I was singing along to holiday music when Bing Crosby’s White Christmas started to play.  As I sang, I cried.  The more I sang, the harder I cried.  I pulled over on the side of the road and wept.  

Someday soon we all will be together
If the fates allow
Until then, we’ll have to muddle through somehow
So have yourself a merry little Christmas now

More than half a century has passed since Kim, Scott and I played “Hi, Mac”. We have grown children who are pursuing their own journeys. We have spent more years living epic distances apart than we ever lived together.  Yet … Yet, I hear an old song and I cry for my family of origin, the one with whom I played and fought and shared adventures.  Tears of joy.  Tears of heartbreak.   

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I wish you a love-filled holiday, creating memories that will one day make you weep.  And maybe, just maybe,  the song lyrics will be fulfilled … if the fates will allow.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas
Let your heart be light
Next year all our troubles, will be out of sight

Have yourself a merry little Christmas
Make the Yuletide gay
Next year all our troubles, will be miles away

Once again, as in olden days
Happy golden days of yore
Faithful friends who are dear to us
Will be near to us once more

Someday soon we all will be together
If the fates allow
Until then, we’ll have to muddle through somehow
So have yourself a merry little Christmas now