december 8 is the official start of the christmas season here. we catholics celebrate the immaculate conception on this day. it is also the day i took my first communion 34 years ago.
on december 8 we decorate our christmas trees. we used to put a lot of cotton and stuff on our tree when we were kids to make believe it was snow. like most of my friends, i am only first-generation argentine. our parents could never get used to the idea of christmas in summer, so we put make-believe snow on the tree and ate winter dishes on a 100-degree night. the christmas week is my favorite time in the year. christmas, my birthday, the beginning of a new year; all three so closely related in my mind and in my soul ever since i was a child. i was born on st john's day, the disciple that jesus loved and whose head rested on jesus' shoulder as jesus had his last supper. the stories of jesus and john and of david and jonathan marked my childhood. before i knew anything, i knew about love. on december 8 my heart begins a journey. i am full of joy and melancholy and wonder. i am full of what the welsh call hiraeth. it's a yearning for the past and a yearning for the future. in spanish we use a similar word: anhelo, whose etymology means ''out of breath''. i am breathless with anticipation of things that will never be and i am breathless with memories of things that never were. so much christmas snow that never fell on me, so many christmas carols i never sang for anyone, so many christmas stars i never followed. i am like this, too. i yearn for the god of my childhood. my hands have remained the hands of a child. i have the face of a man and the hands of a child. i am like this. wally
