1990
De Paul University
Writing from the Inside
Teacher: Zoe Keithley
Christmas With Jenni
We always bought a 6-foot tree; we always decorated it with homemade ornaments, the ones Jenny made from the time she was in nursery school all the way to seventh grade. I recall the fun of taking out those ornaments and Jenny thinking that they were so ugly that she could do better now that she was a year older. Even the empty toilet paper roll covered with glitter was beautiful. There were always tons of presents under the tree, mostly for Jenny, the privilege of being an only child. There were those wonderful store-bought Christmas cookies; thank God, Jenny accepted me the way I was and that I was not a baker.
One year she told me she hoped I would never make Christmas cookies again because it made me so crabby. God love her!
The lights were always hung around the fireplace, up the wall, and around the bar in the rec room; it made the place look so romantic. Jenny’s drawings covered that one wall in the living room. All the Christmas cards were hung all over the refrigerator and the dishwasher. There was that wreath Jenny made from plastic bags that had to go on the front door.
Christmas Eve was the time we went to his parent’s house. God, the presents there were unbelievable! It was hard to fit our chairs in the living room because of all the gifts. His mom would make everyone’s favorite pasty……hmmmm; the smell alone said Christmas. His dad would be sure that we all had a drink of some kind of booze, just to take the tension off each of us – just a taste to celebrate. The hugs were the best part. I’m a real hugger. A hug was the designated thank you for each gift; I really liked that idea. His two brothers would always amaze me with the lovely gifts they would pick out for me. How could they do it – both single, never married, and knowing just what to buy their sister-in-law?
On Christmas morning it was just the three of us. When Jenny woke up she was always forbidden to go downstairs until she got us up; no way did we want to miss Santa’s big drop in front of the tree. Her face was always radiant, and I always had my camera ready to capture the moment. John always surprised us with some homemade fudge, and we were even allowed to eat it for breakfast. Who would want to leave all the presents to go make breakfast? John and I would put toys together, play games with Jenny, and generally act like the kids that we used to feel like on Christmas morning.
Now, on Christmas afternoon it was time to go to my mom’s house. My sisters were always there with their husbands, my sweetheart of a nephew, cousins Johnny, and Denny, Aunt Marc would come with her latest boyfriend, and the next-door neighbor would always bring that yucky fruitcake – we gave it away every single year. Nothing changed much after we three girls were married, had our kids, and were set up with our normal married lives. The grandparents were quite comfortable doing their grandparents’ thing. The kids always felt Christmas was a big deal and looked forward to it for months. Except……………..
John and I got divorced and Christmas was never to be the same again. No one tells you how to keep up traditions when your whole life has changed. That first Christmas was devastating. John and I had joint custody of Jenny; he wanted to split her up so that he could have her on Christmas Eve, and I would get her Christmas afternoon so we wouldn’t be disrupting the rest of the family’s traditions too much. Oh my God, it was so painful. I volunteered to work Christmas Eve just to avoid being alone, I could not have taken it. At work things were sad too; I realized that patients come to the hospital at times like this (especially at an inner-city ghetto hospital like this) when they are lonely. When they are hungry. When they don’t have anywhere to go and it’s such a special day. They must have had some “Always” type of things in their life before they were alone. It deepened my sadness to take care of them but also did give me some joy just knowing I was there for them – at least I felt worthwhile despite my deep sense of loss.
We all take for granted those “always” things in our life, we are sure Christmas will always be joyous – when we have not known any different. It was not a waste as I see it though. Working in this ghetto hospital made me more aware of what Christmas must be like for kids who can’t afford for Santa to come. At least each of us could still buy gifts.
One “always” about the previous year that had more meaning was Jenny going through her toys and giving the ones that she had outgrown to Toys For Tots; I sensed without words that we were both finding solace in this charity that we had not appreciated in the past. I recall her once asking me why Santa did not bring toys to the poor kids, why were we bringing them toys? I told her that the parents had to leave Santa a check – what a bubble burst for a 4-year-old. Anyway, Christmas will never quite be the same; yet from surviving this very sad Christmas, future Christmases will mean more; we will have grown from the hurt that we survived.
Here I am 6 1/2 years later and yes, we have created our new traditions, our new “always”. What seemed impossible came to be quite nice. Now we always play Christmas by ear; we plan it around what feels best, we are free to invite new friends, and we are free not to invite someone rather than be forced to do so by traditional traditions.