Back on the 11th I What's Apped my sister. I asked her, obligingly but not completely so, if she wanted anything for Christmas, even though I haven't bought anything for her in at least a decade. She said that she didn't really want anything but, if possible, I could buy her these Christmas-themed leggings/yoga pants that Target's selling. No need, she said, but if you want to buy them, you can.
It was only a couple days ago that I remembered that she sent me a picture of those leggings, and my God, I feel like such a dick for letting it slip my mind. So I've spent the past 48 hours trying to find them. Tried online and then the store closest to home -- no dice. Yeah, there was a possibility that they sold out as soon as Target offered them. But you don't really know, do you? It's quite possible that if I jumped on this on the 11th, or even shortly thereafter, or even before Sunday, there would be a pair in her size that I could have bought and, possibly, sent to Las Vegas as my Xmas gift to her. And she wouldn't think I'm such a disappointment, for once.
But alas, that was not to be. Hey, I got busy. Last week I was obsessed with getting the right presents for my niece. Yeah, that's my excuse.
I have spoken a lot about how I don't really celebrate Christmas anymore. In fact, my memories of my family celebrating the holiday seemed more like a way to both keep up with the Joneses and to assimilate into American society rather than any organic, internal desire to express warmth to each other and our fellow man. That's why it was so easy to stop buying a Christmas tree, to stop decorating that tree, to even stop putting up the fake tree, and then to stop getting each other presents. I am the complete embodiment of that ... detachment.
But there are downsides to that, this being the latest example. I know that my sis would be quite happy if I got her those leggings and sent them to her while she was in the country. But that's not going to happen, so I'll just be the brother who stays home and doesn't go anywhere and doesn't buy presents.
How did I get so bad at gift-giving to the point where I hardly buy anything to give to anyone? I wasn't ever really raised to buy presents for Christmas, even though every December 25 I got a lot of them. Is it my parents' fault? Or am I just ... selfish?
Honestly, I wouldn't care if my sister didn't toss out this idea. But toss it she did, and so, combined with the fact that I am the only member of the immediate family not in Las Vegas for Christmas, once again I see inside myself and face the possibility that I am simply not a good person.
No comments:
Post a Comment