January 1, 2014 at 12:07 am , by Nick Shell
3 years, 1 month.
Today is New Year’s Day, but it feels to me like we’re a week into 2014 already.
I think it’s because your 3rd birthday was about 2 weeks before Thanksgiving, and Thanksgiving was a week closer to Christmas than it normally is.
Maybe I’m sort of stuck in a time warp continuum. I don’t know if this more like being back to the future or back in the past.
Somehow, Christmas felt more like Thanksgiving to me.
But not just because of that time warp continuum thing. It’s because this Christmas, I actually did what I guess people are supposed to do at Christmas:
I turned off all the lights in my head except for one and realized: Hey, I’m grateful and thankful for all the blessings in my life.
While I’m disconnected from 99.9% people living on this planet, because I’ve never heard of them and they’ve never heard of me… plus 100% of those who already came and went before I ever ended up on planet Earth, Iam connected to enough right now to make me feel alive; to remind me that life isn’t simply a grand scheme taking place inside of a computer chip in somebody’s brain; at least, I think that’s what the plot of The Matrix was about.
There’s something about the actual origin of Christmas that at least peripherally points to the meaning of life.
To me, I would simply say that the meaning of life is to give life meaning, which requires being involved in other peoples’ lives.
And that’s something I was very aware of this Christmas.
As a family, we are by default those people who influence each other, and bring meaning more than anyone else we know.
So to think that I’m really nobody that special or famous or great in relation to entire world, it is both rewarding and humbling to know that I am a VIP in your eyes.
I remember back a couple of months ago during my lunch break from work, scurrying back and forth between Target and Toys R Us, trying to figure out who had the better selection of Disney’sPlanes toys.
Mommy had given me the task of picking one out for you. My instincts told me to pick El Chupacabra, based on my predictions of you liking how he looked and as a quirky way to celebrate our shared portion of Mexican blood.
After all, I’ve bought you enough toys now to have a decent idea of what impresses you.
Without any prompt, the day after Christmas, you discreetly sort of pulled me aside in a way that a 3 year-old boy does, and told me, “Daddy, I like that plane you got me.”
I don’t think you could have known that was one of the few gifts that I had complete creative decision in picking out; Mommy chose most everything else herself, from the gifts we got for you.
It may seem like a simple story or even just a fortunate coincidence, but the fact you made an effort to tell me how you felt about that $4 plane I got you… well, it made my day.
And my Christmas.