The Game Theory

I was dreaming of white Christmases.
of green on red Christmases
of cinnamon smelling mornings Christmases
of cranberry sauce white wine turkey and pie Christmases.
Of wrapping paper chaos and football afternoons Christmases,
Christmases I’ll find under the rocks (the warmest places) of my memory.

Waking from this frosty white dream I notice something was different.
My PJ’s are too small and
Doors have to stand on tip-toes just to let me through
The walls are covered with Bona Natale cards, seasons greetings from smiling faces I don’t recognize.

And this year -When I looked that tree, it just disgusted me.
That grandiose tree who shined brighter even than the burning bush itself,
Decorated with dashing garments of gold
Shiny silver globes and a years worth of hopes,
With boxes upon boxes stacked around its base
Holding up its branches, as if to support the merriment.
Comfort and Joys backed by
Microsoft and toys

I decided then, that THIS year
there will be no sweaters given,
no socks, earrings, or shalls of linen,
no ugly hats or globes of falling snow,
no golf clubs or useless rugs to throw,
no Timbo, Nike, Nautica, Hilfiger, Versaci, Viton
Gucci, prada, BK, CK, DKNY, Guess, Rolex, Tiffany blood or diamond engravings passed around the living room.

This year-
I bagged up all the presents like I was the Grinch who stole consumerism,
threw them out the window just so I that could get rid of them.

Replaced 'em all with a sign on the front door that said:
“Welcome in, the presents are everywhere.”

Because Grandma, this year I got you a good hearty laugh,
And Papa, untie the ribbon of small talk and lets unwrap a good conversation,
Dad I give you all the admiration in the world,
And Mom, Merry Christmas here is the assurance that you can be proud of what you’ve raised.

Each year we inhabit holidays like humble homes our grandparents built
Treading over rituals like worn out paths in the carpet.
These worn down, yet resilient, traditions reconcile long term-long distance simply with laughter.
Each year regardless of who or what has changed, Tradition will always be the same.