Eve

On family traditions

Eve

Christmas EveWe were always an “open your presents Christmas Eve” family. UPS packages from my dad and Nana Rainy and extended family would start arriving weeks before Christmas, and my sister and I would pester my mom incessantly about opening some early. She would always cave and we’d get to open one each night for a few nights until Christmas Eve. Somehow even though we picked the gifts “at random”, the early ones would inevitably be socks or underwear or other incomprehensibly boring things. I have no idea how my mom managed to do that.

Then on Christmas Eve we’d get to open everything in a mad Dionysian fête of cardboard and wrapping paper.

We’d have insane meals that lasted five hours.

But first there was dinner, of course. We’d have these insane meals that lasted four and five hours. My 100% Italian grandmother would make 100% Italian lasagna and spaghetti and meatballs and sausage and peppers and onions and fried eggplant and zucchini and a half-dozen pies and cannolis and usually rum balls and wine biscuits and coffee and the telling of many jokes and stories and the church pastor would drop by and that old — ancient — couple from “the old country” would bring a fruit cake and then some other friends from bingo would bring pastries and the whole time my sister and I would be going out of our minds thinking of all the toys we’d circled in the 800-page Sears catalog that came in the mail before Halloween and just wanting everyone to hurry up and wash the dishes and get the hell home so we could open the damn presents.

And we would. We’d get home and mom would let us open our presents. One at a time, each of us respectfully watching the other and when we finished opening all the gifts from New England there would be the finding of more presents behind the tree and behind the couch and under the couch and there was no way — no way in hell — that mom could have afforded all these other presents when we were so broke we often (the three of us) would split a box of macaroni and cheese for dinner or share a chicken breast and a single can of string beans (things I remember from when we lived in Holly Hill and my sister probably doesn’t remember at all but God I remember how small that apartment was) and somehow after we finished opening every box and every wrapped item was gone and we sat there playing with new toys until two or three in the morning and mom playing with us and having just as much fun as we did because she loved toys and games and playing with us more than anything else in life and we finally fell asleep and yes I did fall asleep hugging an X-Wing one year and incredibly, inconceivably, impossibly the next morning there were more presents from Santa and it made no sense it never did because Santa wasn’t real but it didn’t matter there were stockings full of candy and practical items and then the “big” presents that we had even forgotten we really wanted the most and I will never, ever, ever understand — or know — how she did it but, fuck, our mom was a Christmas magician.

And now she’s gone.

It’s been four and a half months now and I’m halfway through my thirty-ninth year and there hasn’t been a day yet that I haven’t cried my eyes out at least one time because I just can’t believe my mom is dead.

Happy Holidays, You Bastardblink-182, from Take off Your Pants and Jacket

It’s Christmas Eve and I’ve only wrapped two fucking presents
It’s Christmas Eve and I’ve only wrapped two fucking presents
And I hate hate hate your guts
I hate hate hate your guts
And I’ll never talk to you again (unless your dad’ll suck me off)
I’ll never talk to you again (unless your mom’ll touch my cock)
I’ll never talk to you again (ejaculate into a sock)
I’ll never talk to you again
I’ll never talk to you again

It’s Labor Day and my grandpa just ate seven fuckin’ hot dogs
Labor Day and my grandpa just ate seven fuckin’ hot dogs
And he’s shit shit shittin’ his pants
He’s always fuckin’ shittin’ his pants
And I’ll never talk to you again (unless your dad’ll suck me off)
I’ll never talk to you again (unless your mom’ll touch my cock)
I’ll never talk to you again (ejaculate into a sock)
I’ll never talk to you again
I’ll never talk to you again

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