So here it is, one week before Christmas. I have finally started shopping, just a little bit. Is that late? I used to think I was at least competent at this gift giving business, when I was much, much younger. I don't even pretend anymore. I'm terrible at it, and I don't know how to change that. I don't know how to quantify how I feel about people by how much money I spend on them on stuff I can wrap. It never seems like the right metric. I try to find things that make me think of other people and smile, but even that fails me. I either get something so mundane as to be insulting, or so weird that they don't see the affection in my attempt at humor. I wish I knew how to get it right. If it's mundane, doesn't that mean that I see reminders of this person everywhere in everyday life, and I think of them all the time? If it's weird, doesn't that imply that I think they are unique and unexpected and worth the extra steps it takes to connect the dots? Maybe I really do just over think it, which leads me to an impasse. I was just explaining this to one of my friends in regards to why I never get cards out on time, or usually even at all. I get so caught up in how much it takes to write a personal letter, more than a paragraph for each card, that I never start on the first one. Presents have become that difficult for me now. I'd love to just fill up a shopping cart with scarves and soaps and toys, and hand out a simple present to everyone. But I have to stop and think whether the things I give are useful enough or wanted enough. Do they live in a small apartment and have no room for new kitchen gadgets or decorative items? Are they downsizing? Are they allergic to perfumed personal care items? Will I be repeating something someone else is giving them this year? Will I even make it to the post office in time? I just can't get out of my own way on this. Never think that if you don't get a present or card from me that I don't think highly of you. I just suck at showing it.
I had a helper in shopping today. It made it possible for me to buy a few things, having someone to steer me into stores, and assess the things I passed by without much comprehension. I mostly just looked at colors without knowing exactly what anything was good for. I'm pretty sure I stared at cannabis-leaf-shaped silicone ice cube trays for a full minute in one store before I realized what I was doing. Maybe tomorrow's shopping will go a little better. I miss the days of letters to Santa. I knew exactly what to get the kids when they were little. And back then, it was "the more the merrier." Now they both have more than they can put away in their little apartments, but I still feel like gift cards are too impersonal for my girls, even when they tell me that's all they want.
I was just as spaced out driving home at the end of the evening as I was when I was overloaded with stacks of gift ideas. I have been feeling the need to write another short story, and I was struggling to find the starting point for it. Then, over dinner, my daughter and her father said a couple triggering statements, and suddenly, it all opened up for me. On the drive home, along the dark county roads, I had a cast of characters come up and introduce themselves, one after another. Seven people came out of nowhere, and now they are as real to me as if I spent the last decade getting to know them. I was so involved in naming them and understanding their relationships to each other, that when I got to the first stop sign past the reservoir, I really had no idea where I was. There aren't a lot of street lamps way out there, and I couldn't see the houses in the dark to know which way to turn. Even the name of the road was minimally helpful. I made it home, and wrote down all the names and what I knew of each person. I still don't know where the action will go, but at least I know who will perform it, and for now, that's a good start.
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