"So, How Was Your Winter Break?"

On my nightstand: Let's Go, Froggy, by Jonathan London and Funshine in the Sunshine, by Jay Johnson
For dinner: microwaved enchilada (from Friday night) and Chicken flavored Rice-a-Roni
In the Attic: Returning to work after Winter Break

It's such a loaded question, really. People want to hear you tell tales of great family time, fabulous Christmas gifts, and lots of relaxation and overall merriment. I rehearsed my response this morning while in the shower:

"Fine. How was yours?"
This tactic would get the attention away from me and onto the questioner. That seemed like a good strategy, until I realized that I really didn't want to hear my colleagues tell me about the unexpected generous gifts from their husbands, or the time they spent in the Bahamas, or the Christmas dinner for 23 that they had to prepare. So I quickly revised my response to this:
"Fine." (forced smile, with attempts not to appear fakey)

And that seemed to work, well, just fine.

What I would have liked to tell them is that I had a pretty crappy break. Beginning with my boyfriend breaking it off just days before Christmas. Around that time, I also received notification from a collection agency who wanted me to settle an old debt of my ex-husband's. They were going to be helping themselves to the money by garnishing my paycheck. Of course, Christmas shopping was a miserable experience. Something about standing at the checkout counter holding your breath hoping that your account will be accepted tends to take the zip right out of the holiday jubilee. And finally, spending 10 days alone with a 3-year-old who had several meltdowns pretty much eliminated any relaxing that I would have enjoyed.

Oh, and holidays in general have lost a lot of the fun ever since I lost my brother.

But people don't want to hear that when they ask the question. They want to exchange stories of festivities and indulgence. It's a formality, a way to re-connect after a week and a half apart. So I knew well enough to keep a polite smile on my face, and to respond with just enough of a dream-like tone, so I sounded sincere.