Family 1:
There’s a lit up Christmas tree, a fake one, that’s been set up in the living room ever since Thanksgiving. There are candy canes on it accompanied by shiny green and red ornaments. The ornaments come and go; whichever ones the dog doesn’t claim are the ones that stay.
There are Christmas carols being belted out, the kids turning it up as their mom is trying to work. She’s a big-shot doctor and she’s the breadwinner of her family. She brings in tons of money for her kids and for her husband. It’s not feminism; it’s just the way it is, free of labels.
There are candles all over the kitchen counter that smell like pine trees and cider. The house is three stories if you count the basement. There’s carpet, a big TV in the living room next to the tree, couches that recline electronically (how fancy), and the kitchen cupboards are so full of food that the family has to leave some of it on the counter.
Come Christmas morning, it smells like warm and gooey cinnamon rolls – it’s a tradition. There are fifteen presents under the tree for each kid, and that’s what they expect because that’s been their norm for as long as they’ve been alive. They haven’t grown up yet, haven’t seen different homes outside of their middle-class neighborhood; this is what they know.
Their house is in Michigan, so there are snowflakes on the windows while the kids open their gifts at 6 a.m. Yes, the kids make their parents get up at 5:30 a.m. and they compromise with their parents, who say six. The parents get to go down the stairs first.
After the piles of gifts have been opened and appreciated in less than ten minutes and sprawled all over, getting all mixed up, the grandparents come and the aunt comes and the cousins come. They play games and eat way too many sweets. There may be a few heated discussions, but they’re just discussions.
My family was like this. Growing up, I was in my own little bubble. I’ve realized my childhood has been my real big gift all these years, tied up in a bow and everything.
Family 2:
The house isn’t quite tall enough for a tree, but the family still manages to go out to the tree farm and pick out a small one. It’s small, but real, because no way would they ever settle for a plastic one. It’s not huge, but it works. Where the star would usually be, the parents have used one of their daughter’s bows.
There’s a wreath on the front door because it doesn’t fit on in the inside. The house is a small one: one-floor and three bedrooms, one for the parents, one for guests since they have cousins and an aunt and uncle staying with them, and the third is for all six siblings to share. Some have blown-up air mattresses set up in the middle of the living room.
The living room seems to have lost its breath, though; it looks like it’s dying with all the dirty laundry laid out on the floor. There’s even a little spot on the glass from the most recent fight that happened last weekend.
The air conditioning is broken and they live in Arizona of all places, so they’re always sweating during their tropical Christmas devoid of snow.
It smells like garbage disposal, probably because the sink is overflowing; there’s something wrong with the drain, but they can’t afford a repairman right now. Little kids run around while the parents try to clean up. The youngest runs around and cracks the screen of his phone.
On Christmas day, children’s shrieks fill the house. Presents are delivered from strangers because people were kind enough to donate gifts to them. They deliver them Christmas Eve night like Santa Claus would, but the older siblings have already told the youngest ones the truth, and as a result, the young ones don’t get a chance to believe.
Santa for them isn’t their parents, it’s strangers, donators. But in a way, Santa is a stranger to everyone, so at least part of the fantasy is real.
The kids are so excited. They rip open the gifts and run around the second they’re opened. That’s the magic with Christmas – is no matter what Christmas is like on the day itself, simply knowing it’s Christmas is exciting for any kid.
A couple relatives get talking about their lives and a fight happens – a fist fight on Christmas. Looking through a child’s lens, they don’t understand what the fight is about, just that it’s happening. Despite such a cool, fun day, the fight is what they remember years later. They can hear the punch in their head at night.
Conclusion:
When I was younger, I never got Christmas and Thanksgiving mixed up, not once. I always skipped over Thanksgiving in my countdown and went straight to Christmas. Nothing else mattered to me. I enjoyed my family time, but getting gifts and believing in the magic got me excited enough that I couldn’t sleep. On Thanksgiving, on the other hand, I had no problem sleeping.
But now that I’m older, I can’t seem to not link them together. I’ve been out of my house, I’ve seen other things, met other people, and all I can do is be thankful for my Christmas. I always assumed Christmas was the same for everyone, but that isn’t the case.
Christmas is really hard for people for a variety of reasons. Losing someone and going through grief can make the holidays harder. Not having a lot of family and being isolated can make someone feel unloved and ruin their December. There may be abuse in the home, and during the holidays when everyone is trapped in a small space, it may make that abuse more frequent than any other week. There may be a couple that recently got divorced, and it may be a kid’s first Christmas without both of their parents together. Maybe time has gone by and you’re not a kid anymore and it’s just hard adjusting to the aging of life in general. No struggle is worse than another; everyone deserves support.
I know Christmas is a lovely time, and I’m not taking anything away from that. I just urge you to, if you haven’t already, maybe invite someone to your get-together who may not get along with their family. Make someone a gift. Donating is great, but there’s so much more to Christmas than the monetary value. Letting someone in your circle is one of the best things you can do.
I used to be grateful for the gifts I got. But now I’m grateful I even have a roof over my head. That amazes me! Out of all the chances I had, I ended up with the family I have. It’s crazy. I always complain about never winning the lottery, but in my own way, I already have.
What will Christmas look like for you this year? I know there’s currently grief in my family for my grandpa not being here for Christmas, so it’s okay if there’s crying and laughing at the dinner table. Just like life, Christmas can have ups and downs, too. It’s okay if your holiday isn’t perfect. And it’s okay to be pleased with it and it’s ok to not be pleased.
We see the same classic movies every year, but the truth is the Christmas movies of our lives are so different. Just like with the “Polar Express,” all the tickets say something different; we all have a different train. My golden ticket this year says NEW PERSPECTIVE.
Have whatever kind of Christmas you want this year, and don’t let that bell fall through the hole in your pocket.