There's something a little ridiculous about the holiday season in Orlando, Florida-- especially if you are from Midwest Indiana. The weather has very little to do with typical Christmases either. It's either 40's and rainy or 80's an humid. The weather can't even decide what it wants to do with itself. At least in other states, for the most part, the weather picks a general set of ten numbers to stick to, but not here. Nope. And snow? Not even a thought. When it rains, Josh and I do joke about it being "snow," but even we don't think the joke is very funny.
Two days ago was my family Christmas party. It's a little early in the month, relatively speaking, but at least four generations of Sachtleben spawn make it out to Valparaiso, Indiana or Minooka, Illinois to sing "Silent Night" in German, eat deviled eggs because they were Cousin Steve's favorite, try to catch up on twelve months' worth of life events, watch Uncle Bob pitch a mini-fit over the blasphemy of "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer," and ultimately see how many secret glass fill-ups we can pull on Aunt Donna. If you haven't been, it's great.
I called my mom and sister's phones to get passed around from person to person, but no one answered. Cousin Megan texted to say she missed me. Cousin Chris texted to say he had a cold and couldn't go to the party either. I was feeling pretty low. But hey, Josh was either smart or lucky this year. The day of the party, two packages arrived for me. An Ahsoka Tano hoodie from www.heruniverse.com (cuz every fangirl needs one) and In God We Trust, All Others Pay Cash by Jean Shepherd. I put on my hoodie, cracked open the book, and took a big whiff of book smell. I started reading, and the first chapter is all about going to Midwest Indiana after being gone so long that you practically decide not to claim it anymore. I teared up. Couldn't help it. I know people come down to Orlando for just about every vacation under the sun. But some days, you need a moment of your childhood back. You need a moment of what used to be normal.
You just need a Redamak's hamburger, and hopefully, a good one at that. Note: a good Redamak's
hamburger is so greasy that you need napkins in your lap, on the table, and in your shirt front. So much grease that you can feel it running down your arms. Toppings of choice: velveeta cheese product, ketchup, mustard, and grilled onions. The only acceptable variation of toppings is Swiss cheese, green olives, mustard, and grilled onions. You will feel this burger the next day, if not later that evening.
You need to drive down 800 North, afraid to go over 30 miles an hour because there's so much ice under the new lake effect snow, and you never know when a group of white-tail deer will bound in front of your car. You need to imagine that you're really in the Millennium Falcon and that the snow zooming past you are really stars that you're flying past in hyper-drive... only to remember you're only going 30 miles an hour.
You need to have a cat on your lap. A fluffy, heavy, cross-eyed cat who still mews like a kitten and sucks on fingers. You need to put in Lilo and Stitch because said cat just loves it so much. You need to almost hide your glass of milk because he's so spoiled that he'll try to drink it right out of your cup.
You need to sit on a squishy brown couch with a cup of coffee in your hand. You need to listen to your grandfather read "The Ballad of the Northern Lights." You need to marvel every year at how 1. you didn't remember how long this friggin' poem was or 2. the fact that it actually rhymed or 3. that you should really have this memorized after hearing it so much, but for some reason, it never sticks.
There are so many things that I miss about family Christmas. Things that you can't purchase. Things you can't put into words. Things you didn't even realize you'd miss. Instead, I'm in Florida. Making sure everyone else has an amazing vacation with their families.
I went to Target today. I got some pain meds, cold meds, a flash drive, organic juices, clementines, acorn squash, How the Grinch Stole Christmas, and a maroon tank top. I walked outside into the "snow" donning my yoga pants and Ahsoka Tano hoodie. I took a deep breath in. Cigarette smoke and a nearby Cracker Barrel filled the air. It was almost like I was back in Indiana, grabbing lunch after the 8 am church service and before going to Uncle Fritz and Aunt Sharon's. Almost. I took my cart to the drop off, and an employee gestured for me to just toss the cart at him. I did so with the speed and precision one gets after pushing and parking strollers for two hours straight twice a week. It was an unfortunate reality check that I was in Florida and not able to get any time off for Christmas since everyone else has vacation and comes to visit me.
I know I have a lot to be grateful for. And I am. I'm just homesick for somewhere that isn't home anymore. For places, people, and feelings that may never exist again as I had known them. I found out recently that there's a word for that sensation. Hiraeth. It's Welsh. No direct English translation. But there you have it. So merry early Christmas, everybody. Remember why we celebrate.
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