A very goy Christmas
This year, I “celebrated” Christmas for the first time. No, none of the baby Jesus stuff; just a lot of good cheer and a little of the crass materialism.
Knox and I put up a Christmas tree. More of a shrub, really, since we wanted a live tree that we could plant in our garden afterwards. When we went to the store to get lights and ornaments, I felt so, so,… goy. It was alien to me, participating in customs of which I’d only been an observer.
The presents we got, we put under the tree. The lit menorah and the model train set rounded out the Noël tableau. The anticipation built with a handful of holiday parties, dinners with friends, and gift-giving of our own—and of course, the obligatory yuletide soundtrack.
Christmas Day arrived and we rushed downstairs, giddy like children in our bathrobes and hot chocolate. The presents were a delight! We called our family and then partook in that most central ritual of Christmas, dim-sum.
And then it snowed!