Russian Christmas

I just had a wonderful time celebrating Russian Christmas with a friend of mine who celebrates every year by inviting a handful of friends over and serving up hors d’oeuvres and home-made borsht, along with good wine and shots of vodka, which we all consume while engaging in witty, humorous discourse. It was fun, but now I’m feeling a little sad.

The first time I attended Russian Christmas was in 2000, when Chris invited me. My friend, Annemarie, was Chris’ boss at the time and Chris was the “real” invited guest, but he invited me along. We went to the party together for two years, 2000 and 2001. Then we moved to Los Angeles for the latter part of 2001 through the latter part of 2003 and then Chris got sick, so although we were invited in 2004, we did not attend. Then Chris was gone and I could not attend without him in 2005 or 2006, but this year I decided to attend.

Annemarie never excludes me from the invitation, and that very generous, very thoughtful gesture touches me very deeply. I feel as though most people would have given up on me by now.

What I love about Annemarie is that she isn’t afraid to talk about Chris out loud in a room full of jovial party guests. She nonchalantly mentioned the time that she and Chris attended a Red Sox game together in the rain. She’s not the least bit uncomfortable. She included Chris and she included me. I wish Chris could have been there with me tonight.

I drove myself there, found a parking space on Boylston Street and walked over to Park Drive on my own. I was nervous about finding parking and nervous about leaving the party alone and walking to my car, but I made myself proud by doing both of those things, tonight. Chris would have been proud of me.

I was the first one to leave the party. I don’t really like being out really late at night, so when the clock neared 11:30I felt a little bit of panic set in and I felt compelled to leave.

I’m home now and I already feel as though I can’t sleep, so I’m not even going to try. Eventually, the gravity of exhaustion will take me.

Good night.