Thoughts on Anticipation

C knows what I’m getting him for Christmas. He’s known for a while. 

Normally I wouldn’t tell him in advance, but this year’s gift required sizing and sampling. He had to know I was getting him an Oura Ring. 

I ordered it this week, and when I did, I reflected on the difference between anticipating something when you know the outcome and being completely surprised. C and I went to Europe together five years ago this fall. We were there for 5 weeks, and while I’d been to Europe before, it was C’s first time. It would be a special trip and we spent a great deal of time planning and preparing. We considered our route, booked our accommodations, checked in with friends and family who lived in the cities we’d visit, and thought about what we’d want to see and do while there. 

I remember sitting in the dining room at my parents’ house on a dreary September day. My computer was in front of me, dozens of tabs open to various accommodations in Austria. I hemmed and hawed about whether or not we should go to Salzburg. Sound of Music was my favourite movie, after all, and I wondered if we’d regret not seeing the city. My mum was standing in the kitchen cooking something or other and remarked that the planning and anticipation of a trip are so wonderful and can sometimes even feel as special as the trip itself.

I looked away from the computer and toward the kitchen and contemplated what she’d said. I wanted her to be wrong. I wanted to exclaim that no! this couldn’t be possible! The trip was always the better part! But really what I thought was that she might be right. 

Our trip was fantastic. We often remember our day here or our time there. The trip itself was more than I could have anticipated, but the anticipation and preparations were indeed a wonderful part of it. 

So, when I ordered C’s Christmas gift, I wondered how he felt about knowing what he’d be getting. I asked him. Turns out, he much prefers a surprise. 

Me? I think I prefer knowing the outcome. And the reason I think this is twofold. First, I tend to be the best version of myself when things are predictable. In theory, I love the romanticism of a surprise visit, a surprise party, or a surprise trip. But in reality, I think it might push me right over the edge.

Second, C and I do stockings, but I’ve always bought the gifts that go into both my stocking and C’s. My stocking isn’t ever full of anything really special. Instead, I fill it with the make-up and skincare products I’d buy myself anyway. Often, I get myself a new pair of socks and some chocolates and when Christmas rolls around, the anticipation of opening a stocking full of gifts I put in there myself is great! I am genuinely excited and if it was going to be a surprise I might be inclined to feel anxious.

Of course, the anticipation of a gift you know about, and the anticipation of a trip are two different things. But my point is that the anticipation of something, anything is a special part that ought not to be forgotten. And in a place, like remote Yukon, where everything seems to move slowly, it’s all the more important to embrace this stage.

I think it’s useful to apply this theory of anticipation being pleasurable to things like cooking. Cooking takes time. It’s a process. Chopping, dicing, slicing, measuring, waiting, testing, and adjusting. And before all that there’s the planning part, which, here in remote Yukon, can involve a long period of anticipation. Sometimes I find a perfect recipe, only to realize I don’t have the ingredients and have to wait until the next trip to town before I can try it. This could result in frustration, so it’s much better to endure this waiting period with a happy sense of anticipation.

When I think of anticipation, I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention mail. Here, it’s normal for a package to take weeks to arrive at our teeny tiny post office and longer is not uncommon. The anticipation of the package’s arrival is, and I’m only half kidding when I say this, relatively unmatched. Just this morning, for instance, I ordered a case of Eve’s crackers. Now these crackers are damn good. Dare I say, they’re the best crackers I’ve ever had. I can already imagine enjoying them with C while playing a candle lit game of Scrabble. I’ll eagerly anticipate receiving the tracking number, and when I go to the post office, I’ll wonder if they’ve arrived. And when they do arrive, C and I will enjoy them, and that long period of the anticipation will make them even more delicious.