There are things, that I remember as a little girl, I thought would make me the "grown up" I would want to be. I knew that I wanted a refrigerator that had the freezer and the fridge door side-by-side. I thought this was some sort of class statement. I wanted a refrigerator with water built into it. Again, I thought this said something about the lifestyle I would be living. And I wanted to send out Christmas cards. Specifically, the kind that came with a photo of my beautiful, photogenic family. Of course, saying something about the life I had carved out for myself.
My mother used to have cards ordered with our names engraved into them. I remember finding them in my father's den closet. I found them because they were never mailed. I would venture to guess, that to this day, my mother has intentions every year of sending out cards. She probably buys them, misplaces them, and doesn't send them too. That is not a dig-- it is a truth. But regardless, I remember finding these cards that I thought so fancy just sitting in the closet. I wanted to have these cards with my name, my husband's name, my imaginary children's names engraved in gold.
Once I was old enough to buy my own cards, I would painstakingly choose them from Staples, Barnes&Noble, The Hallmark Store, the day after Thanksgiving, write a "Merry Christmas! Love, Kristen" in all of them, address them and send them on their way to arrive as early as acceptably possible. I thought I was so classy. Then I became engaged and was able to sign them "Dan and Kristen" THEN I became a mother and no longer had to write anything because I was finally able to send that picture card, which with the advances of modern technology was not an add it, but the card itself!
I find myself, now, getting a glass of water from the spout in my dual door fridge basking in the mantel full of photo cards, thinking I have indeed arrived.