Cold December

Bah! Humbug.

I really don't like this season. It's not just the materialistic bent. It's not just the chaos. It's not just that people try and shove all their celebration and good cheer into one month, whereas if they spread it evenly over the other eleven months, our country's karma balance might actually be in the positive.

Why do I hate December so fucking much?

It hasn't been a good month for me, historically speaking. My step-grandpa died in December when I was 11.

Several other extended relatives also died in December.

I lost my first baby in December.

My crazy uncle Jim died in December.

The epiphany came to me--where else?--in the carpool line. When December comes along, I'm waiting for someone to die.

Yeah, statistically, more people die in December than any other month. That leaves behind the rest of us.

Two years ago when my uncle died, it was the end of a difficult year for me. I was already a little unstable. Well, more than usual. I'd gotten to the "tie a knot and hang on" stage, and my hands were getting slippery.

We had arrived at the in-laws for Christmas. My daughter was sick. We needed cold medicine, and someone had to go to town and buy it before the stores closed. I volunteered.

I adore my in-laws, but I had to get the fuck out of there. Usually I anticipate their quirks--being late for everything, deciding to have huge snacks 30 minutes before a huge meal is served, going way overboard with presents--but this time, I wasn't in a mood to put up with it. Wasn't quite ready for it.

Heading to town, I was hurting at my very soul. Somewhere, I got it in my head that if I saw an open bar, I was going to stop and have a couple shots of whiskey. I don't even like whiskey.

But uncle Jim did.

I was going to do it in memory of him. And then I probably would have bawled my eyes out. I doubt I would have made it to the grocery store.

There were no open bars on the way.

At the store, I'd found what I needed and was standing in line with the medicine and a $20 bill. A man noticed that's all I had and let me go ahead of him. The checker rang me up and then disabled the security thing on it. "So the alarm won't go off and people think you're a thief."

"Hey, I've known a lot of thieves and felons. They're not all bad."

She smiled. "I used to date a felon. No, they're not all bad. Well, that guy was, but not because he was a felon."

"No, they're definitely not all bad."

I walked out the door. The alarm didn't go off. I'd taken a few steps away from the door when I realized I was still holding the change from the $20. I turned around and put it in the Salvation Army bucket. It was the only one I'd seen all season.

"Merry Christmas," the man said to me.

"Merry Christmas," I whispered.

I made it to the car before I started to cry. I cried all the way home.