Sentimental Accidents

Making It Last A Little Longer

As a kid I would come to the sad realization every Christmas night that it was over.

The weeks of planning and anticipation had ended with opening presents earlier that day. The food had been eaten, the relatives had been seen and by 8 PM on Christmas night there was nothing left to do but go to my room. As a kid this seemed unfair.

I often wondered why I lived in a world where Labor Day and Memorial Day were celebrated with three days of drinking but Christmas was only celebrated from the time the Yule Log was shown on TV on Christmas Eve through getting home from seeing my family on Christmas day. That was less than 24 hours.

One year, my father managed to extend the holiday spirit just a little longer.  I remember riding in my father’s van on a Christmas night many years ago. I was still pretty young, maybe 9 and my brother and sister were 7 and 5.

After weeks of anticipation it was almost done; every gift had been opened every relative seen and now we were on the drive home from our great grandmother’s house.

My dad was due to drop us back at our mother’s but we weren’t going the right way, instead of going home we were going towards a part of Long Island I had never seen. The houses seemed impossibly large compared to ours and they were all fabulously lit up with holiday decorations. I was impressed but also worried about getting home on time. From the passenger seat I turned to my father to say:

“Dad, we have to go home”

He kept his eyes on the road but I could see him smile as he replied:

“Your brother and sister don’t want to go home.”

“But we have to.”

My father knew he could always count on my brother and sister to disagree with me. He looked at them in the rear view mirror and said:

“Everyone who wants to stay out and have fun looking at the Christmas lights, raise your hand.”

Then he looked at me and said:

“Raise your hand if you want to go home.”

I didn’t bother raising my hand and my father continued to drive.

This was a time when seat belts were still just a suggestion so my brother and sister stood up in the back of the van, faces pressed against the windows calling out the decorations they saw. Eventually I began to do the same from the front seat as we slowly drove past house after house calling out what we saw until well past our usual bedtime.