(no subject)
Dec. 24th, 2009 10:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
swordageI want to tell you a story about Christmas.
When my parents divorced, Dad was left with almost nothing. He had to move out and saw my brother and I only on weekends. I was six or so and sweetly innocent about the world. My mother was not terribly interested in entertaining children for Christmas, so we were with Dad in his little apartment (he'd gotten a three-bedroom so we'd each have our own rooms when we were there overnight, but it was still tiny) and we slept fitfully until finally Christmas morning came and we raced into the living room and found -
A lonely, bare wooden plant stand and a small handful of presents, not a bit of greenery in sight. There was a note taped to it. "This was the closest I could find to a tree," Santa wrote. "It will do just fine! Have a merry Christmas! Love, Santa."
Santa loved me enough to make do. He cared enough to find something that would be tree-like, something he could top with a little tin-foil star. I don't remember what presents I got, but I remember that lonesome little plant stand. And last year, when there was no room for a tree and too much depression in the house to get into the consumerism of the season, I dangled two ornaments from a floor lamp and wrapped it in tinsel. I stayed up all night cleaning enough for us to sit together by it, and I wrapped presents and stacked them so carefully to make them look bigger. I did this not out of a desperate need to fit a certain mental picture of Christmas - I did it because I love my family enough to make do.
I believe in the magic of Christmas. I believe in presents appearing overnight. I believe in the joy of crinkling paper and the smell of pine and pie. I believe in the beauty of carols and snow. And I believe a plant stand or a floor lamp or a ratty old chair can become a beautiful Christmas tree.
Happy holidays, everyone. I hope you find joy in this season.
When my parents divorced, Dad was left with almost nothing. He had to move out and saw my brother and I only on weekends. I was six or so and sweetly innocent about the world. My mother was not terribly interested in entertaining children for Christmas, so we were with Dad in his little apartment (he'd gotten a three-bedroom so we'd each have our own rooms when we were there overnight, but it was still tiny) and we slept fitfully until finally Christmas morning came and we raced into the living room and found -
A lonely, bare wooden plant stand and a small handful of presents, not a bit of greenery in sight. There was a note taped to it. "This was the closest I could find to a tree," Santa wrote. "It will do just fine! Have a merry Christmas! Love, Santa."
Santa loved me enough to make do. He cared enough to find something that would be tree-like, something he could top with a little tin-foil star. I don't remember what presents I got, but I remember that lonesome little plant stand. And last year, when there was no room for a tree and too much depression in the house to get into the consumerism of the season, I dangled two ornaments from a floor lamp and wrapped it in tinsel. I stayed up all night cleaning enough for us to sit together by it, and I wrapped presents and stacked them so carefully to make them look bigger. I did this not out of a desperate need to fit a certain mental picture of Christmas - I did it because I love my family enough to make do.
I believe in the magic of Christmas. I believe in presents appearing overnight. I believe in the joy of crinkling paper and the smell of pine and pie. I believe in the beauty of carols and snow. And I believe a plant stand or a floor lamp or a ratty old chair can become a beautiful Christmas tree.
Happy holidays, everyone. I hope you find joy in this season.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-12-25 07:35 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-12-25 03:45 pm (UTC)