Sometimes, the best holidays are the ones you don’t remember at all

click to enlarge A blur can be best.
A blur can be best.

There's plenty I remember about 2008, the last year I lived in the home of my childhood.

I remember high school. I remember going into my senior year hoping that my crush would like me, that I’d make new friends, that I’d be accepted into the college I wanted.

I remember my parents losing their jobs. I remember the whispered conversations they had behind closed doors. 

I remember being a bad driver. I remember that I backed my mom’s car into a parked truck. I tried to hide it, but there was a dent on the rear bumper the size of a beach ball. I remember my mom’s face when she found out, knowing they didn’t have the money to fix it. 

I remember getting a job at Subway. I remember the relief I felt when I no longer needed to ask my parents for money before going out with friends.

I remember the stock market crash. I remember the faces and the graphs on the shows that always gave bad news and I had no idea what any of it meant. 

I remember my parents telling me we would soon lose the house. It was the house I had lived my entire life in. I remember feeling angry that we were being forced out because I wanted to leave on my own terms, after I graduated. 

I remember the presidential election, a sense of hope things would change soon, a feeling that this economic downturn would pass. 

I remember my mom coming up with a plan for us to give gift cards she’d found to those in need. I remember how she told my older sister and me that in order to receive, we needed to learn how to give. I remember thinking it was dumb — we needed charity. 

I remember the sinking feeling that everything was going to change without knowing if it would be for the better. 

But I don’t remember Christmas. 

I have an idea of what probably happened. I assume that, one last time, I rushed down the stairs of the home I grew up in and ripped open my presents. I assume that I spent the day watching NBA basketball, and that my mom made a ham for dinner. 

I assume it was a normal, good Christmas. It had to be, because I don’t have any memory of it. 

Today, the world is entering the strangest holiday season of my lifetime. Family gatherings are discouraged. People are losing their jobs. Relatives are dying. 

And I find myself hoping for something most unlikely. I hope that a decade from now, when I look back at 2020, I won’t remember this Christmas at all.

Mt. Spokane Winter Season Opening Day @ Mt. Spokane Ski & Snowboard Park

Sat., Dec. 4, 9 a.m.-4 p.m.
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About The Author

Wilson Criscione

Wilson Criscione is the Inlander’s news editor. Aside from writing and editing investigative news stories, he enjoys hiking, watching basketball and spending time with his wife and cat.