Dream of a Perfect Christmas

My perfect Christmas would begin on Christmas Eve, with friends and family gathering together to share the spirit of the season. Everyone would be healthy, happy, and excited to share this time together; wearing Christmas sweaters—nothing too tacky, nothing ironic—sweaters that look good, that compliment the wearer but are comfortable and matching and photogenic. The guests could wear whatever pants they want, as long as none of it clashed, and if some of the women wanted to wear dresses that would be fine.

We’d be gathered in a carefully appointed and tastefully decorated home. Outside, shimmering white lights draped over tree limbs and wrapped around bushes, inside there would be a lot of sterling silver and crystal. The Christmas tree would be large, real, and freshly cut. The smell of the tree would be noticeable but not overwhelming, and it would be decorated with red and green glass balls exclusively, all nicely polished to catch the light from the seven to ten red candles set in silver candlesticks set around the room.

The food would be delicious and plentiful, all classic stuff; roast beef, turkey, ham. Various casseroles. Piles of cookies and an array of five cakes, all different flavors. No one would complain about being vegetarian or gluten free, everyone would be so happy to share the holiday with one another that these dietary quirks would be put aside for the evening. A big crystal bowl filled with eggnog in the kitchen, with cups and a special serving ladle matching the bowl. Music, of course. Christmas classics playing from a radio in the next room, the volume turned down so the music is barely audible. Low enough so that it feels more like Silent Night is occurring to everyone simultaneously than playing on the radio.

The gifts would be stacked neatly according to size, on my perfect Christmas Eve, and immaculately wrapped. Wrapped so nicely that you might look at them and assume they’re not gifts at all, but decorations. Wrapped so nicely that opening the presents will take hours, since tearing that perfect wrapping would feel like such a shame. Once opened the gifts would be perfect—reflecting a deep understanding and acceptance of the recipients character and needs.

Oh, and all the grandparents will be there, back from the dead and returned to full health. Maybe not full health like youth, though, because then they wouldn’t be recognizable as our grandparents. How about we set them all around 60-70 years old. And they’ll tell us about how they celebrated Christmas when they were young, and we’ll compare it to the way we’re celebrating Christmas now and be proud that we’ve carried on important traditions without being too dogged about adhering to expectations.

After the gifts we’ll play games. Charades, maybe, something that gets people moving around and laughing. I’d like to see someone end their turn at charades by flopping down on the couch, laughing, making everyone else laugh, too, so that whoever the contestant flops down next to almost spills their eggnog, but doesn’t spill it. Doesn’t spill a drop.

And then, around midnight, we’ll all gather together around the tree and pour gasoline over our heads from cherry red plastic canisters, lift our matching green Bic lighters and flick them all at once with a hearty ‘Merry Christmas!” We’ll be engulfed in flames together, as a family; our flesh will melt and run from our bones into a single unified mass on the floor, and the flames will burn brighter and brighter until everyone in town can see the glow. ‘Look at that,” they’ll say. ‘Looks like someone is having a perfect family Christmas!’