Or it would be if I didn’t live in a place that often decided 74 degrees was an acceptable temperature for Christmas day. So I have my white plastic Yule tree so I can PRETEND it might be a tad chilly while tears leak down my cheeks as I watch twinkle lights flash against dead, wet, brown, grass. Truly, the stuff of dreams. Instead of an adorable pink nose and rosy cheeks, it’s the season of stuffy noses and dodging heat exhaustion when I wear my sweaters in defiance.
That being said, despite it being two weeks until Thanksgiving, I have everything I want for Yule. My son asked me yesterday what I wanted for Christmas this year. I wanted to tell him something, but I couldn’t think of a thing.
I have my family, my two life partners, my children. I have a wonderful house, a full pantry, a switch lite and more games than I have time to play (which, btw, head over to kickstarter and support My Time At Sandrock), crochet hooks and enough yarn to last me weeks, cook books, socks, dead day hoodies, slippers, prozac, and everything else I could possibly want. Today’s mail contained the cherry on top of my best friend sending me a new mask made with fabric entitled “Dick Monet” and it’s utter perfection.
Its 41 days to Christmas and I don’t want a thing.
And yet I want ALL of the things. I want universal health care. I want a basic universal income. I want everyone who voted for Trump to undergo mandatory therapy and logic classes. I want actual equal rights. I want reparations. I want justice. I want to abolish the police. I want gun control. I want forgiveness for student debt. I want white wallstreet crime to be punished in the way black weed possession is – harshly and to the full extent of the law. I want science to be seen as truth again and “alternative facts” called lies once and for all. I want news to be news and not driven by advertisement revenue. I want Bernie Sanders for president. No. I want Stacy Abrams for president.
I have everything I could want, except peace of mind. Knowing my life is balanced on a delicate house of cards that could be knocked over at the smallest accident and no government or family is going to protect my family’s right to stay together. Honestly, I just try not to think about it. Because when I do, I don’t sleep.
And I’m not the only one. My generation, my avocado eating Millenials, mostly feel some variation of the same. Even the cis and straight ones. Gen z is its own mess. Gen X wishes they had the funds of the boomers but they just have all the judgement. Even the poorer boomers are scared. This wasn’t the future that was promised to them. They followed the rules. Why are they alone and sick and worried about how long they’ll survive retirement?
So this year, I guess, my Yuletide wish is this – that we can hang on long enough to change it all. Because when we take a collective sigh of relief and a step back from the ledge – that is when we will truly be unstoppable. When we save ourselves, perhaps we can save the earth as well.