Where are you, Christmas?

Where are you Christmas? Why can't I find you?

There are no Christmas lights in Islamabad. No fragrant evergreens. No mistletoe. Not a wreath nor an ornament.

I shop the markets--drab, broken cement on the outside, ornate spectacles on the inside. Shopkeepers serve tea as they rehearse the benefits of wool from this part of the goat's neck and that part of Uzbekistan. I crease carpet after carpet to inspect knot counts.

I lean in close, evaluating claims of natural dyes and seeking design asymmetries that will convey authenticity. Instead, I see Katie and kids. The quest for quality, I discover, is the essence of love. 

How can I know, dear shopkeeper, for myself, whether your claims are accurate? No. This won't do. I'm looking for Christmas. Next shop please.

My world is changing. I'm rearranging. Does that mean Christmas changes too?

I have touched a hundred pashmina scarves by now. Two-ply. Four-ply. I ask about their supply chain. I ask about their design. But I don't know. What is real? What will last? Which one is worth the price?

I know what looks good. I know what feels good. Alas, I have been deceived by those impostors many times. I want to follow it from it's source. Let me see the goat, watch it sheered. Let me observe the loom, the weaving, the extracting of dye from pomegranate and saffron. Then I will know.

But, says the shopkeeper, you would still have to trust us that we have the best goats.

Where are you Christmas? Do you remember the one you used to know?

I hold a scarf to my face to feel the texture. Something about it reminds me. Almost, I feel Christmas. Almost, I am eight years old, sitting under a blanket early in the morning staring at the lights on the Christmas tree. I squint and blur them into eternity. It seemed Christmas would never come. Yet it also seemed it would never end. 25 days until I see my children. Once again, I am waiting for Santa.

At length, I make purchases. A leather bag. A scarf. Carved jewelry box. I still don't know. I won't know until I have experience. I inspected. I probed. But I still didn't know. I won't know until I live with these products for a season. The purchase is the final research. The leap of faith.

Christmas is here, everywhere. Christmas is here, if you care.