Christmas Memories: Sadness and Joy

I always loved Christmas while growing up because it was a big deal to us as a family gathering, both immediate and extended. For the first 11 years of my life, we got together with my dad's family on Christmas Eve, even at immense inconvenience to other family members, to open presents after midnight when my grandfather arrived from closing up the movie theater he managed. After that, the younger siblings (my dad's generation) rose up in protest and we began having our gatherings at a more suitable day and time and took to drawing names instead of giving gifts to everyone, another hardship on the younger families. Even with all the craziness and sometimes 35-40 people in a small, three-bedroom house, I loved the holidays. And Christmas morning was always just about the four of us: Mom, Dad, my little brother Jim, and me.

However, the year I was 16, we moved 1100 miles away from the town, and everyone, I’d known my entire life. At least that Christmas, it was still the four of us. Unfortunately, Dad died of a heart attack the following May (or March, I'm not sure after 35 years) and Mom insisted we stay where we were. So the Christmas I was 17, there was just Mom, Jim, and me. Mom wanted to make it something to remember as being different, so that it wouldn’t be a memory of loss — any more than it already was — but a new memory. So the three of us talked about it and decided to have lobster tail for Christmas Eve dinner! Mom had never cooked lobster of any sort before, but she asked the man at the fish counter where she bought the lobster. Jim and I made the salad and melted the butter and set the breakfast bar for our feast. We even had little glasses of wine with Mom's regular-sized glass. And it was a very fine meal! It was a nice way to start a new memory.

In addition, my brother and I were panic-stricken that there was no one to fill Mom’s stocking or give her gifts from Santa that year, so we did it. We bought small gifts for her stocking, and we went in together on a single gift for her from Santa. On Christmas morning, Mom quickly figured out who the 'elves' were who had surprised her by filling her stocking, but the look on her face when she found a package to her from 'Santa' was one of shock. I think she believed in Santa for a moment, or that an angel had reached down and given her a gift. Then she saw the smug looks on our faces and realized that her 'angels' were the two teenagers who were her anchor in this world.

By then, our extended families no longer extended. Our family was just the three of us.

Holiday Quiet

I'm in the living room at my friend's house and it's almost entirely silent. Girl child went to a friend's house. Boy child and dad went to boy child's bagpipe lesson. Mom is taking a nap. And the animals appear to be napping as well. I feel entirely alone and at peace with the lit Christmas tree and the mantel lights and the Santas and nutcrackers and snowmen.

It's been a wonderful holiday so far. Knowing that I am wanted makes me light up inside, even though I am tired (my hips hit right at the middle bar on the cot and I am unused to being around people 24/7). It's gray outside and quite cold and has rained off and on, but I'm handling it. (The silk long underwear helps a lot!)

It is nice being in places that are familiar and knowing that I could get around on my own fairly easily (in spite of all the changes here and there over the past 12 1/2 years). 

The fact that it's in the 70s in Houston is a nice thought, but the extreme heat started there so early this year and has continued so late. I stayed indoors much of this past year because of stress and because I was afraid the weather would hurt me. 

I have been afraid that the local cold weather would hurt me, too, but today, with my silks on underneath my jeans and my thin fleece pullover, with wool-blend socks on my feet and my wool winter coat covering me from shoulder to mid-thigh, with my gloves on my hands, I managed a family walk down the hill to Starbucks and the walk back up the hill and was actually feeling warm before we got to the house. So the cold weather has made me feel cold when I was slightly underdressed, but it has not hurt me. (But I might feel differently if it were snowy or icy.)

I'm feeling peaceful right now. I don't feel the need to make any decisions or to rationalize any potential decisions to myself or others. I am simply relaxing on the couch, drinking hot tea with milk, and typing on my laptop.

I have been having so much fun, have been talking and laughing a great deal, and have listened and observed, all with great joy and contentment. Now I feel the contentment of the peace and quiet of this lull in the holiday and my visit.

Regarding thoughts of moving to Seattle, my friends have assured me they would have or make time for me in their lives. They miss me and would love to have me move back here, as long as I was happy. This is very comforting. I still have a lot of thinking to do, and a lot of research into jobs and rents etc., and a lot of talking with my therapist. But I feel better able to be able to judge the Seattle side of the equation.

Now I think I'm going to watch the lights of the tree and feel the warmth of the encompassing happiness my hosts have shown over having me share this holiday with them.

I hope your holidays were joyous and warm as well.

Home and the Holidays

Last year, I spent Christmas in a hotel room. I had dinner at The Waffle House (which makes pretty awesome, filling, way too fat for you foods, especially waffles, of course). It didn't bother me at all; it bothered everyone else a lot.

So worry not this year: my mother is coming to spend the holiday with me. Mom and I have long planned that when Gram died, Mom and I would do something different for Christmas, because the same old thing would make us miss Gram even more. This year we are spending some time in San Antonio, at the Riverwalk Plaza, the place I stayed last year in early December, before I arrived in Houston. The city et al. were just beginning to put up the holiday lights when I left to continue my journey, so I look forward to seeing the end result this year.