A friend of mine was taking a trip recently, to Paris, no less. Alex, my friend, had this odd premonition moments before his flight was supposed to take off. He suddenly saw something in his mind, with extreme and frightening clarity. “This plane is going to crash,” he blurted out, as the last of the passengers, weary from the long security screenings, stumbled onto the plane. Both Alex and his traveling friends, who were attempting to calm him down as his anxiety skyrocketed, were asked to leave the plane. That’s my nice way of saying all seven of them were escorted off. As they were being rather forcefully directed to those rooms beyond the TSA screening areas, the ones we all hope we never see, the airport was shaken severely as the plane Alex & company had just left exploded upon takeoff, becoming nothing more than a giant fireball in the sky. Astonishingly, Alex’s vision had allowed them to cheat death. But, soon, Alex tells me, things weren’t so peachy in the land of miracles. See, one by one, my friend’s other friends began to experience an extreme rash of horrifying accidents. It seems that the grim reaper does not suffer the premonitions of fools lightly. Sometimes, things are just meant to happen. Okay, I don’t have a friend named Alex. If you’re a scary movie aficionado, you probably caught on to the innuendo in the first sentence or two. This is the plot from one of 2000’s top grossing movies. “Final Destination” earned over $112 million dollars worldwide and spawned 5 sequels, the most recent of which is due to be released in 2022. It is also the theme of my Christmas season this year. Things just did not go according to plan in the weirdest ways. Just wait until you hear what happened.
My therapist gives great advice. I was boo-hooing about the compiled injustices of missing my daughter, as I do each Christmas, missing my father, missing that I would be unable to spend the day with or even phone my mother, and missing the fact that all of my children can’t gather together with me on Christmas Day. Why, it’s downright un-American. Where is my postcard perfect holiday? Where is my Hallmark movie Christmas Eve? Sure, my therapist pointed out that I should realize, even if all of my kiddos lived close-by, there are other parents besides me. I don’t have a monopoly on my own children. My daughters-in-love have parents, too. But, I would not be ignored. Finally, Barb – we should not address her only as therapist, said something profound. “Dina, why don’t you focus on creating new Christmas traditions instead of relying on the unattainable?” Ouch, Barb. Still, Barb hasn’t steered me wrong, yet. So, I sat down with my husband and we came to the conclusion that a post-holiday trip was just what the doctor ordered. We researched, priced, and planned, until we chose an NYE cruise leaving from Galveston the day after Christmas. In fact, with our stockpiled points and rewards, we were able to get a bargain basement price. I began focusing less and less on the forced perfection of the holiday and more on the fun and relaxation that was right around the corner. Sounds amazing, right?
Christmas Day – 5 p.m. I’m sitting in my mother-inlaw’s living room, having stuffed my face in the first mass family gathering in nearly 2 years. We were in the middle of a raucous bingo game for some hilarious dollar store prizes, a tradition of ours, when my phone rang. It was my neighbor. As I raced around the house looking for a good phone connection, the chopped bits of conversation began to create a horror story. “House, loud, smoke alarm, flames, kitchen” were all bits of the hangman like conversation. Here is the translation. While unpacking their SUV from their own Christmas Day visits, they became aware of a very loud and high-pitched noise, my smoke alarm. As the neighbor’s husband peaked inside my house, he was yelling information to his wife to relay to me. He could see flames in my kitchen leading him to believe there was a fire on or near my gas range. We called 911 from the car and executed a 20-minute drive in under 10 minutes, with hazard lights and the whole 9 yards. Spoiler alert, I’m typing this article in my kitchen with my house intact. Turns out, large standard poodles who smell a slight bacon grease remnant on the cookie sheet you slid to the very back of the range top, and totally intended to clean the moment you arrived back home, may stand on their hind legs and swipe at said cookie sheet enough times that their immense paw actually activates a gas burner to its max flame height, heating the bacon grease residue to the point that it sets off your fire alarm. One of the 4 fire fighters who were patiently waiting on us to arrive home told us it’s not their first dog-starts-fire rodeo, but the first one in a while where the house didn’t burn down or receive any damage. Leaving for our cruise the next morning, we were glassy-eyed and still in shock. Then I lost my phone. Then the rapid Covid test results necessary to board the ship were delayed. Then, almost everyone we knew tested positive for Covid. Then all the ship’s festivities were cancelled. Then we hit a squall line on our return route, leaving us all feeling like Lieutenant Dan in Forrest Gump when he rides through the storm on that little “shippy” cross beam thingy. So, what’s the moral to this story? Curveballs are a part of life. You can dodge them, you can ignore them, or you can try and catch them. But, you cannot will them away. In the words of Brazilian novelist Paul Coelho, author of the best-seller The Alchemist, “Life has a way of testing a person’s will, either by having nothing happen at all or by having everything happen at once.” Or, as country mega-star Gary Allan sings, “Life ain’t always beautiful, but it’s a beautiful ride.”
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