Christmas

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I remained restless throughout the night and into the sunrise, as the surprisingly cold morning air was seeping through my bedroom window and surrounding me. The temperature here has actually become slightly chilly lately, particularly at night and early morning. The small thin blanket that was struggling to cover my 5'6 frame proved a poor substitute for the large thick bedspread I normally use while sleeping. On the spare mattress next to me lay my large thick bedspread, and underneath my large thick bedspread lay a visiting Peace Corps Volunteer, who could accurately be described at that moment as selfish and warm. To be fair, I can't say that even if i were the one laying under my blanket of choice that my night would have gone much better; the mattress that I sleep on, which never was exactly a Sealy Posturepedic, has become so thin that I fear one day soon I will wake up with splinters in my back, courtesy of the wooden slats from my bedframe that support my mattress. Anyway, spending the morning rolling around in my Mozambican bed and refusing to accept the start of my Mozambican day, strangely enough, brought back strong memories of Christmas time back in Lansing Michigan.

I have started recent winter breaks by staggering into my house fresh off from finishing my first semester of the college year, wrapped up with a week of finals in which sleep never does fit into the schedule, comfy bed and warm blanket irrelevant. A few weeks home at this time of year produces a feeling of contentment that has no equal, including that moment 5 months later when school ends and summer begins. The anticipation of Christmas, a beautiful white blanket of snow (at the point of year when snow still is beautiful and not yet a pain in the ass), Christmas songs, my parents taking a little time off from wrok, a brief sighting of my big brother, snowball fights, sledding, fires going in the fireplace, hot cider, hot coco, and everything else you see on the most sincere JCPenny, 24 hours only Christmas Sale ads just cannot be duplicated. But what really gets me about winter break are the smells that always go with it. I'll never forget those smells. The main ingrediant is always my mom's cookies, of which there are many. So many, in fact, that the square footage covered by all the cookie tins required to hold my mom's cookies is easily the equivilent of one room in the mud brick house I currently live in. The smell of coffee never seems to disappear. I think both my parents begin transitioning into winter break by lengthening the time in the morning that they take their coffee, and by strengthening the coffee that they take. Not to be outdone, the aroma of pine and tree sap take over the living room, letting you know without even seeing, that our Christmas Tree has arrived, which means that the next 45 minutes will mark the most frsutrating of my dad's year, as he exerts a gladiator like effort to straighten our tree in the tree stand. His frustation becomes evident when he irrationally and often violently lashes out at 3 well meaning and encouraging bystanders who say in perfect unison, "Still crooked!". Sometimes the unmistakeable odor of snow blower gas drifts into the house as well, bringing news that dad has finally accepted his shortcomings as a Christmas Tree setter, and has gone outside to clear snow from our driveway, where he can swear and cuss without my mom hearing.

The way I roll around my bed on this morning in Mozambique reminds me of how each morning of winter break I refuse, like any good college student, to accept the start of the day, even after already having slept 10 hours. Eventually, however, all those smells creep under my door, march into my nostrils, pull me out of bed, down the stairs, and into our living room, where I can clearly see that all our Christmas Tree needs is a little push to the left.

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