The Christmas season is coming to a close.
For some, it’s time to reflect on the unbelievably insane year we had.
For others, it’s time to wonder how they’re going to pay for those AirPods and Nintendo Switch games Santa brought.
For those who still listen to the radio, it’s time to return to the free airwaves because the non-stop, 24-hour-a-day Christmas-song marathon is over.
I love Christmas carols, but if I hear Burl Ives sing “Have a Holly, Jolly Christmas” or Gene Autrey’s “Here Comes Santa Claus” one more time, I think I’ll scream.
But on a gloomy winter day, Josh Groban’s “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” came on the radio, and I found myself standing at the kitchen counter with tears streaming down my face.
There are so many people who are staying put for Christmas this year because of the fear of spreading the coronavirus. Many lost their lives this year due to Covid, and those loved ones won’t be coming home for Christmas.
The Christmas shine is a little harder to find.
We’re not taking holidays for granted – no groaning when thinking we’ll have to sit through Aunt Meg’s retelling of her childhood – because most of us would give anything to hear those stories in person.
Our traditions are being abruptly halted but Christmas songs keep us connected. We all learned the fun lyrics to “Rudolph” in first grade, anxious to shout out “like a lightbulb” at the appropriate time.
“Frosty the Snowman” is still one of my favorites, and my sister Diane is the only person I know who remembers all the lyrics to all of the verses.
Some songs are out of date but we keep singing them even though we don’t have a clue what the lyrics mean because it’s tradition.
Nobody decks the halls with boughs of holly any more, except for fake garland, and we’re not striking a harp. We’re fine tuning our Spotify list.
Also, Christmas might’ve come upon the midnight clear – which we seldom see due to light pollution – but I have no idea what “cloven sky” or “Babel sounds” refers to.
We Texans have no idea what it means to dash through the snow in a sleigh. We know how to crawl through I-10 traffic in our air-conditioned cars in December, but it’s not a fun ride.
I’m not hearing sleigh bells in the snow, but I am hearing people clicking their car key fobs in the crowded mall parking lot looking for their vehicles.
We’re also not writing Christmas cards – we’re sending customized video greetings or emails.
Santa is still coming in his sleigh with Rudolph leading the way, but the ole elf might have to use some of those Amazon Prime trucks to help him get everything where it’s supposed to be on time. Those drivers have flashlights and an up-to-date GPS system.
Most of us might dream of a white Christmas with snow, but I’d bet most of us are mainly dreaming of Christmases like the ones we used to know where we’re gathered with family and friends without fear of spreading the coronavirus.
We’re dreaming of coming and going without masks, hand sanitizers or fear. We’re dreaming of a Christmas that’s merry and bright and where we’re able to spontaneously hug friends and family.
“The Little Drummer Boy” reminds us that a present, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant, is still an incredible gift, especially when given from the heart.
On this Covid Christmas, one wish, best sung by the incredible Nat King Cole, remains true – “although it’s been said many times many ways, Merry Christmas to you.”
This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.