A Brown Boy In A White Christmas

It’s cold. Its windy. It’s dark all the time. And I fucking love it.

This is my time of year. This is my season. A nighttime snowfall is just magical. The serene mornings are just beautiful. And bright afternoons, filled with melting snow and dripping icicles, make my day. Do I want to build a snowman? Damn fucking right I do.
Growing up in the homeland (Nova Scotia), we felt like the only brown family on the planet. Everybody was white. At its worst, that meant extreme violence (but that’s another story). At its best, it meant a lot of ignorant questions. But it made no difference (it actually did). It’s Christmastime! No we don’t go to church or put up lights or a tree. And no, we don’t get presents. But everybody is happy and that is amazing!
Every year we would all jump into the car for the sole purpose of checking out the most spectacular Christmas light decorations. Back in the day, people went all out! Giant, elaborate patterns, inflatable snow people (entire families sometimes), Santa families, nativity scenes and always tons of deer. Lights flashed and moved to thunderous scores. We were all swept up in Christmas cheer (eventually, we started putting up a tree and even did presents!). Five brown folk driving through the white snow as happy as can be.
I’m 48 now and sometimes just looking at that number fucks me up. I feel great (but everybody says that). Having kids was never part of the plan. So as it turned out, I was 41 when Miss M was born. No spring fucking chicken. Now, my children are the joy of my life. Way more than I ever expected. I dove into this shit with everything. And I love it.
We drive around and look at lights now, just like when I was a kid. The squeals of excitement over every house, every Christmas character fill the car and it just makes me want to cry. Life is beautiful, and the experience of these moments running full circle just humbles me. And I never want them to end. 48. Damn.
Lady K was brought up Catholic. Not the strictest in the world. We don’t go to church but we do all the fun stuff. Miss M and Little Man are bouncing all over the place with excitement. Bedtime is getting later and later. And there are bake sales, concerts, plays and parties every night. Damn, the big day is coming up fast. Yes. I am way behind on my shopping. And yes, I am terrified. But I’ll fight the blistering cold, the panic-stricken crowds and my own anxiety just to make it all perfect.
Because you know shit’s gonna get fucked up. Christmas with the family. This brown boy loves it.

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