December 17, 1999
Traditions
Christmas is a week away. It doesn't feel like it. Not at all. I never got the tree put up, I haven't done much shopping. The only reminder I have about the season are the Christmas decorations up in my neighborhood. Some of them are quite pretty. Some of them are beyond tacky. And honestly, those icicle lights were pretty the first fifty houses I saw them on. Now they've become trendy and dull. Knock it off, already!
If I sound faintly cranky, it's because I am.
If you had asked me a few years ago what my family's Christmas traditions were, I'd've chuckled, "Traditions? What traditions? We don't have any!" The fact of the matter is, we do, they're just very informal ones. Tree decorating at my house always meant my mom and me. Dad would watch. I'd follow mom around the tree (fake, and older than I was) with the lights. Then we'd hang the ornaments. From the time I was a baby, my mom got an ornament for me each year. They were one of the best parts of Christmas. Little cloth and plastic dolls of carolers and ice skaters, I made up stories for each one each year. Mom hung the glass balls on the tree, I hung the 'special ornaments'. When I got married, Mom gave me the box holding all those ornaments. For several years, they hung on mine and Gary's Christmas tree. Then when I left him, they got left behind, like so many other things. As far as I know, those ornaments are still in his parents' attic. Sitting here thinking about them has got me almost ready to cry.
Presents from immediate family are always opened Christmas Eve. (Brand tells me this is a Welsh thing. Considering that my family's from eastern Kentucky, that's not improbable.) Christmas morning was always for Santa presents and stockings. Then we'd head off to my grandma's or my Aunt Vera's. Christmas dinner is always early, like around 1 in the afternoon. After everyone stuffs themselves silly, it's time to open presents. Usually one of the younger kids present plays Santa and passes out gifts. An orgy of paper-tearing and box opening ensues. When the dust clears, my Aunt Eula would go around picking up paper. I wonder who's going to do that now.
My Christmas traditions are dying. The ornaments are gone. I have a tree and ornaments, bland, meaningless things that Hollingsworth and I bought for our first Christmas together. Maybe that's why I haven't bothered putting the tree up. It doesn't seem to mean anything. For the first time in years, I'm going to spend Christmas Eve with my mom, but it doesn't feel the same. Because we lost Aunt Eula on Thanksgiving, apparently there's not going to be much of a Christmas celebration with the rest of the family. I have the option of going to my stepsister Dawnn's house, but that leaves me cold. It feels worse than celebrating Christmas with strangers, which, really, it is. I have nothing in common with my stepsisters save that our parents got married when we three were all adults.
I realized this week that Christmas means nothing to me this year. Everything seems empty. And yet... I found myself singing Christmas carols. Lest I become a likely target for a TV Christmas movie (sweet urchin/kindly old lady shows cantankerous woman the Meaning of Christmas), I decided to create my own traditions. I am, however, astoundingly short of ideas. How does a person alone create a tradition?
I got two Christmas CDs last night. It's a start. Maybe I will dig out the tree this year, maybe when I finish Christmas shopping this weekend, I'll find a couple of ornaments that mean something to me. Start the collection over again.
I don't know. I really don't.
Posted by Lisa at December 17, 1999 02:04 PM
