ostarella
12-24-2007, 08:26 PM
It's Christmas Eve now, and the tree is up in the living room, just as it has been every year for the last 55 years. My brother and I have never spent Christmas anywhere else but in this house. No matter where we were, what we were doing, every Christmas we are drawn back to the big old house on Franklin Street.
The tree sits on a low coffee table in front of the big picture window, and the star on top sits only inches from the ceiling. It is a somewhat garish star. For years, we had a cream colored star, surrounded by a blue circle. When that failed to light one year, my father went to the store and got the only one left. Garish it might be, but it has lit the top of the tree every year since.
There is a blue striped candy cane on the tree. My brother ceremoniously places it there every year. When my brother was ten, my older sister decorated the tree. She wanted it to be 'special', and wouldn't let my brother put the candy cane on the tree. He felt bad, and she felt terrible, and every year since she has called and asked, "Did Jimmy put the cane on the tree yet?"
My son's first Christmas. We bought him a jack in the box. Scared him half to death, poor kid. But he enjoyed playing with the box more than anything. Actually, trying to eat the box was his favorite. And every year, he has gotten a snow globe from Santa, and they sit now on top of the piano. This year another will be added.
There was the Christmas he was six. We were at the grocery store, and he wanted a sucker. It was maybe two inches wide, deep red with a white Santa on it. A whole fifty cents. And I couldn't get it for him, because if I did I wouldn't have enough for the milk.
There was the first Christmas without my dad. Going through the motions. Every ritual adhered to with great rigidity. It would be a "normal" Christmas, by God...
The first Christmas without my mom. All rituals out the window. Everything changed. New traditions, new rituals. A new beginning. No hanging onto the past. None.
Tonight, my family - my brother, my son - sit in the living room, watching a movie, and the dogs wander from one person to another, getting absent petting before moving on, and I sit watching them. And I know that this is what Christmas is really all about, having family near, exchanging smiles for no reason. All the pasts no longer matter.
The tree sits in front of the window in the big old house on Franklin Street, and the garish star twinkles high on top.
And I am content.
Merry Christmas.
The tree sits on a low coffee table in front of the big picture window, and the star on top sits only inches from the ceiling. It is a somewhat garish star. For years, we had a cream colored star, surrounded by a blue circle. When that failed to light one year, my father went to the store and got the only one left. Garish it might be, but it has lit the top of the tree every year since.
There is a blue striped candy cane on the tree. My brother ceremoniously places it there every year. When my brother was ten, my older sister decorated the tree. She wanted it to be 'special', and wouldn't let my brother put the candy cane on the tree. He felt bad, and she felt terrible, and every year since she has called and asked, "Did Jimmy put the cane on the tree yet?"
My son's first Christmas. We bought him a jack in the box. Scared him half to death, poor kid. But he enjoyed playing with the box more than anything. Actually, trying to eat the box was his favorite. And every year, he has gotten a snow globe from Santa, and they sit now on top of the piano. This year another will be added.
There was the Christmas he was six. We were at the grocery store, and he wanted a sucker. It was maybe two inches wide, deep red with a white Santa on it. A whole fifty cents. And I couldn't get it for him, because if I did I wouldn't have enough for the milk.
There was the first Christmas without my dad. Going through the motions. Every ritual adhered to with great rigidity. It would be a "normal" Christmas, by God...
The first Christmas without my mom. All rituals out the window. Everything changed. New traditions, new rituals. A new beginning. No hanging onto the past. None.
Tonight, my family - my brother, my son - sit in the living room, watching a movie, and the dogs wander from one person to another, getting absent petting before moving on, and I sit watching them. And I know that this is what Christmas is really all about, having family near, exchanging smiles for no reason. All the pasts no longer matter.
The tree sits in front of the window in the big old house on Franklin Street, and the garish star twinkles high on top.
And I am content.
Merry Christmas.