I hate those people who post pictures of their trees with all the presents under them. I hate it when all kids at school can talk about is what they want for Christmas, what they are getting for Christmas, what they got. I’m thinking about that kid looking down and probably feeling bad and wonder if they’ll get anything? Will they at least, hopefully, feel loved or be warm? I’m thinking about the tragedy in Aleppo. I’m thinking about people that are sick or lonely or of the guy I saw a few weeks ago sleeping in a blue sleeping bag in a park in sub-zero temps. When I was little I loved the anticipation of Christmas--the decorating, the baking and preparing--but Christmas has alway felt kind of sad to me, even when I loved it. Mostly my dad wasn’t around, but one year we were all home, Mom, and Dad and I. I remember crying because I got so many presents and my mom didn’t get that many. I felt bad for her. She deserved presents. She was the best. Another year I was in a church Christmas program. (I went to church school for the cookies, how did I end up here?) I remember my mom being sick to her stomach because my aunt was battling breast cancer and all this “joy” didn’t make that much sense at that time to her. I didn’t quite get it, but my mom was hurting so I was hurting. I remember waiting, kind of always...for this to be fun, the actual Christmas part. There was this one really awful Christmas. My mom made us go to my grandparents even though I just wanted to stay home. We fought each other and the weather the whole drive down. Mom and I, my uncles, aunts, cousins, and grandparents, enjoyed dinner, and exchanged gifts. There were some drinks the adults had, and then all of a sudden a few people had had too much to drink. My uncle was crying, my mom was crying, and all of a sudden it seemed like everyone was crying and I’m not really sure why. My grandma and grandpa were mad because the kids had drank too much. She told everyone to leave and go to bed. The evening fractured and I woke up the next morning after our “merry” evening to hear my mom telling my Grandma we were leaving. Yessss, I thought! Let’s get out of this place, bad vibes. “No, you’re going to stay here and be miserable with all of us.” Then, there was the year I wanted to break up with my boyfriend, but my mom wouldn’t let me do it on Christmas. She was right, it wasn’t the time, it would have been horrible. Nevertheless, I had a god damn melt down in the middle of Trader Joe’s feeling sick about it all. People were staring, tears were streaming down my face, I was struggling to catch my breath, I was sobbing and was tasked with pulling it together by the time we got back to our shared apartment. I remember lying in bed next to him that night feeling stiff as a board and awful. There was the time my mom and I got the creepiest pedicure in a basement establishment. We were working the “treat-yo self” angle. We walked into this nondescript, despite the neon blinking nail sign, salon and accidentally woke up the Hmong guy who was peacefully sleeping to Bonanza blaring on a black and white television at the bottom of the stairs. Shit. Once we got down there and assessed the situation we were ready to bolt, but he was stirring and to leave would have be incredibly rude, especially in the holiday spirit despite our desperate urge. It was strange, the whole experience. Laughably, beyond uncomfortably strange, and definitely memorable. For a long time my mom and I have muscled our way through. Always relieved when the 26th rolled around, when we got to shake off the commitments and pretenses of Christmas and go hiking or sledding or ice skating with my cousins and aunt and uncle. That was the highlight and finally we were able to exhale. My aunt told my mom to create new traditions and memories so we wouldn’t hate it as much. Instead of decorating for Christmas my mom and I learned to decorate for and celebrate, winter--twinkle lights galore, and a touch here or there of holiday, pulling out my aunt's beautiful holiday quilts, not too much. We have some special family traditions that still mean a lot to me. I’ve never had a cut Christmas tree or artificial one. We’ve always had a potted norfolk pine in our living room that my mom leaves lights on year round, we just plug them in when tis the season. There’s the wooden heart ornaments my grandfather made for our tree since the delicate branches can’t handle heavy ones. And although we're not much for Christmas, we celebrate New Years with an epic family ski party brimming with ski wax talk, specialty beer, wine, cheese and crackers, saunas, salmon and an over stuffed kitchen of winter enthusiasts.
So this year, I’m not feeling so bad about things. My mom is remarried and John doesn’t push the Christmas thing on us. I don’t think it's really his thing either, thank god. They have bright, shiny giggly two year old grandaughters to make Christmas fun for them. They take a weekend earlier in the month and holiday it up in southern Wisconsin. I stay home because I hate that long drive and I’m just not Christmasy and it’s okay. But I am happy for them and my step-siblings that they have that time and fun celebrating. There’s a lot of icky going on in the world, but my students have been doing this service learning project in the community and I’m really proud of them and the differences they’ve been making and the things they’ve realized about themselves and helping others through the process. Josh and I are all settled in our cute little house with a just barely Christmas tree (potted of course) and we’ve got plans to join my mom and John for Christmas Eve dinner and then go snowboarding in the U.P. on Christmas. It’s sounding pretty bright to me and I’m already hoping the New China Restaurant will be open so we can pick up Chinese food and my favorite ever egg rolls on our way home. I’m trying not to get too optimistic, or specific about how it all plays out although it sounds like I haven’t done a very good job of that specific part really, hello egg rolls. Mostly I’m just hoping for a cheerful day. For me. For my loved ones. For my students. For as many people as possible. One of my goals this year has been to let go of things that I have been holding onto for a long time that are unhealthy. Overall I am not sure how well I did on this, but as far as how I am feeling about Christmas? I’m thinking I’m doing okay. There’s still a hovering sadness, but it’s whatever I want it to be and if I’m with people I love I’d call that a win. Even if we don’t end up snowboarding and just hang out at home that’d be okay too I think.
1 Comment
k8
12/25/2016 09:24:44 am
I'm just saving this here...
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AuthorsMagdalen Dale and Kaite Sweval grew up a layer apart, overlapping and paralleling. Belonging to the shores of Lake Superior and yet not quite belonging. Laughing and dreaming on the bench outside the ferry booth as Mag passed the time and Kaite chose her time. Left to explore as soon as they could. And then as adults returned home, perhaps to their surprise. But glad to have each other... ‘cause we know there is strength in the differences between us and comfort where we overlap. Archives
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