Antlers

I don't hate my job. I find no shame in working a low-level, practically minimum wage job. It gets me out of the house, it forces me to interact with people. And let's face it, without being forced to, I won't. This year I have brought home close to five figures, and I have insured my family. No shame in any of that.

Until today. Today, my boss handed me a pair of reindeer antlers as I walked in the door. The antlers were only a slight step down from the Santa hat I had already been wearing by my own choice, but one antler was broken. This, to me, seemed just too low. I was not thinking about making money or insuring my family, or the fact that I don't hate my job. I was thinking about the floppy antler and how this is not where I pictured myself at 42. I put a band-aid on it, because humor soothes the shame, but tomorrow I go back to the not-so-lame Santa hat.

I am now at home (with nothing upon my head) sitting in what I have dubbed "The Christmas Room". The basement/family room which has in recent years been a catch all for toys and books, ugly furniture and fitness equipment (which, pfft we use a LOT!! ahem), and a place to send the kids who are not our favorite people right now to watch tv and get out of our hair. This year, I have transformed it into a cozy, Christmas-y happy place. Warm and inviting. I have finally taken some odds and ends off of the the walls that were hung by my in-laws, and re-covered them with our family photos. I have talked before about the difficulty I have had in making this home my own, because it was my husband's family's home and there are parts of them everywhere. (not literally!)  It has been a very slow, ongoing process to make this home "mine" but the room I am sitting in right now is decidedly Shawnee and I like it here.

I am missing too many people this year! I expect the years following the death of a loved one to get easier somehow. And it does, I suppose. Different, at least. But you never know when grief will sneak up on you. While I was driving yesterday I saw a funeral procession for a firefighter, complete with the town's entire fleet of trucks. I found myself sobbing in the car. I have no connection to firefighters nor has anyone I am missing. I guess it was what the grief just under the surface needed to break out; someone else's grief. And of course, the holidays.

And maybe the broken antlers...

But right now, I smile.