countdown

brooke is four. brooke is the youngest daughter in the family i work for. her birthday is on december 12th. she talks about it non-stop. she talks about what she wants. she talks about what she will wear. she talks about who is coming. about what food there will be. about how she will do her hair. loot bags, music, party hats, singing happy birthday, not sleeping the night before. every time she talks about her birthday all i hear is december 12th. the date, december 12th. december 12th equals nine sleeps. nine sleeps until i see my family.
every morning i see the orange juice in the fridge. best before december 19th, two sleeps away from utter bliss. the oldest girl has a synchro meet on december 10th, eleven sleeps till i'm home.
everything with a date on it is a taunting reminder of how long i have to wait until my christmas can start. how long i have to wait until i can wake up and smell my mom's christmas spice's mulling on the stove. until i am home with the christmas calendar hung in the hallway with the christmas mouse that moves over one square each morning. until i can cuddle with my dad on the couch when he gets home from work. until i can meet mom at work with my dog and walk home with her. until i get to belt out joy to the world with my dad at the end of christmas eve mass, not because we love hymns, but because joy to the world marks the last song of the mass. and to us signifies that we will soon be on our way home to nana and papa's where my aunts have made mounds of delicious food, that is waiting to be gobbled up and washed down with holiday themed martinis. until i get to walk down main street and know every other person i walk past. until i get to be surrounded by friends i've known since i was five, friends who are like family.
today is november 29th. twenty-two sleeps.