A Very Covid Christmas

by Elizabeth Yeter

“Are you excited for Christmas?” That age-old question that I’ve been both asking and answering for years now. And I always respond the same way. Well, not exactly the same way, but definitely in the affirmative. “Oh yea, of course I’m excited. It’s Christmas, after all,” or some comparable version with a similar upbeat sentiment.

But the truth is, I don’t think I’ve been excited for Christmas in 20 years. They weren’t all colossal failures, but for the most part they also weren’t anything special. I’ve lived away from my extended family for the better part of that time, so the warm gatherings of my childhood, presided over by my grandmother, are distant memories. Also, there were some particularly awful Christmases, like the one I wrote about last year when my fiance stood me up at the movies, and I never heard from him again.

And then there’s this year. I think most people are pretty upset about the way 2020 has gone so far, and Christmas is no exception. Isolation, travel restrictions, no hugs. If you’re not having a lackluster Christmas, you’re at least having a different one. But for me, with the exception of not being able to go to the movie theater, things will be pretty much the same as they’ve been for years.

It’s my own doing really. I don’t reach out to people. I live a very private life. I’m an introvert. Every new year’s resolution is some variation of “this year I’m going to be more social.” Every January 15th ish I retreat back into my self-imposed solitude.

I was trying to write something at least slightly hopeful this Christmas, but if you’ve read any of my other blogs, you may notice that cheery isn’t my forte. So I’ll leave you with this:

This morning it was 18 degrees Fahrenheit and I jogged by a group of homeless people warming themselves by a makeshift fire in a public park. It made me smile.

Merry Christmas.