Sunday, December 20, 2009
I don't like to Christmas shop and there are many reasons but I think the main one for me is that I can't get the ones I love the gifts I would really love to give them. The fantasy gifts- the gifts that would say, "Here, this is what you deserve. This is how much I love you."
That, of course, is impossible.
But if I could- oh! if I could- here are some of the gifts I would give:
For my eldest, my Hank, I would give an entire set-up of everything he needs to write and publish his 'zines. I would give him printers and ink supplies enough for years. I would give him the computers (Macs, of course) and the cameras and the paper and the pens and I don't even know what all he'd need but I would give it all to him and also, a place to live where he could still watch the parades but have enough room to house all this equipment, all this joyous busy-ness of writing, printing, the smell of paper and ink, big windows so the light is always good or else it would be cave-like, whichever he wanted. That is what I would give to my son.
For my daughter, May, I would give hundreds and hundreds of yards of silk velvet. I don't know why but that is what I see in my mind to give her. Silk velvet because it comes in such jewel colors and I would give her all the colors, the teals, the rubies, the golds and emeralds and the silvery dove grays and the pure whites and the deepest blacks and cocoa browns and every color they dye silk velvet in. And the best scissors in the world for her to cut the velvet and silk thread in every color and so much of it that she would never run out. And a table big enough to cut the cloth, the bite of the scissor on the wood of the table through the honey of the cloth and she would cut it and sew it and yes, for her a room too, big enough for that huge table and for the best sewing machine in the world and pins and needles, the kind that Belgian nuns use or whatever is best. Windows, floor to ceiling and light that streamed in on her cutting the cloth and sewing the cloth in mindless ecstasy as she worked, her fingers flying and being kissed by the velvet as she did so.
For Lily and Jason I would give enough money that Lily could stay home with Owen and whatever children she has in the future. This would be Owen's present too- his mother. But I would still insist that my grandson come to stay with me a few days a week because he is the light of my life and I want him to know me and there is nothing more I want in the world than to know him every step of the way. I don't want to be a holidays-only grandma. I want to be a Wednesday afternoon grandma and a Sunday morning grandma and I want to be a for-no-reason-at-all grandma, just there, always there if he needs me, if he wants me for anything at all.
For Jessie- well, this is a hard one. She is already getting a mandolin handmade by Lon Williamson. I would think this is a dream come true for that girl. Right now she would probably ask for a donation to Oxfam in her name and I would gladly do that- enough to buy cows and sheep and goats and chickens for entire villages. Chickens. Chickens for the world. Is that okay, my Jessie girl? To give chickens to the world in your name?
I would do that if I could. And maybe, if I could find them, a lifetime supply of jeans long enough to fit your crazy-long legs. Yes. That too.
And Mr. Moon- that one is easy. I would give him a thousand acres which held streams and a pond as big as a lake to fish in and woods to hunt in and enough rocky hills to make that Tennessee boy feel at home and a log cabin with a front porch and a huge stone fireplace where I would sit with him, on the porch or beside the fire and a kitchen where I would cook the fish, the meat, and the green things we would grow on a sunny patch and a cozy bedroom where homemade quilts lay on the bed to keep us warm on winter nights. It would magically be in a place very close to the children but perhaps a place where it would snow sometimes. I love to think of that man coming in the door, snow brushing his shoulders, his eyes lit up with the joy of coming in to the cabin from the woods that he owns.
And that is what I think about, those gifts I would give my family, if I could. The material gifts. The gifts of perfect health and perfect love and perfect lives I could not, in a million years give them but if had the money, I could buy the computers, the cloth, the time, the chickens, the land.
If I could, I would.
And now I am off to shop for the things I can buy and they will be imperfect gifts in every way because there is no way I can hand my babies and my husband gifts that say what I want them to say which is this: Live your dreams. These are the tools or the time or the money you need to do that so LIVE YOUR DREAMS. Do it!
Because it is your dreams that make you who you are. It is your dreams that lead you on your path to the Divine.
Merry Christmas, my babies. My gifts to you will be imperfect but you are not. And in your perfection, in each and every one of you and in your gifts and in your dreams, I have received the greatest gift I could ever have.
The love of you all.
Thank-you. And I do not need or want another thing. Remember that. Okay? Just come and be with me for Christmas and we will celebrate this amazing thing we have which is all of us, coming together to celebrate in love, each of you my jewel, each of you my richness, each of you my blessing, each of you my heart.
That is all that I want and far more than I dreamed and you all have made that so.
You have made the very dreams I did not know I had dreamed come true.
I love you.