This year has flown by. It feels like I sneezed and with the “Gesundheit!” went the entire course of events during the last 11.2 months. The Holidays? ... Already?
I love the Holidays. So I guess that is my consolation for the fact that every year speeds by faster than the last.
Holidays are special because I am a part of this loud, loving clan of smart-asses. And like all families we have our traditions. Some traditions have evolved. Some have faded to happy memories as the people who embodied them have passed away. But they continue to shape me nonetheless.
My Grandmother’s birthday was Christmas Day. I remember the whole family squeezing into her little house—the adults sitting upstairs and sharing conversation. My cousins and I causing a ruckus in the basement.
Grandma had this tiny porcelain statue of a Christmas tree. It had these plastic light bulbs attached to its branches that lit up when you plugged it in. That was our tree, standing proudly on the end table. It was always swallowed by the dozens of packages surrounding it. And we all loved it. It reminds me of Grandma herself. Tiny, proud and always surrounded.
The furry hat is also a fun part of our Christmas. For decades my Aunt and Uncle have been trading off years—giving each other the same, God-awful, furry hat as a gag gift. My Grandma made it from extra material left over from the God-awful furry vest she made. The hat looks like either a drowned bunny rabbit or squished squirrel road kill. I can’t decide which.
Nevertheless, this perpetual Christmas gift just keeps on giving. They have had to think up clever ways over the years to sneak the gift into each other’s possession: In the hollowed-out insides of a book, shoved down inside a coffee cup that was supposed to be filled with treats, hidden under pillows, given in gifts from other family members, etc.
It’s been fun to watch.
Even though my Brother, my Dad and I tease my mom for her 45 boxes of Christmas decorations (I’m not kidding. They take up the entire garage) I love the atmosphere it creates.
My mother’s Christmas tree is the most beautiful decoration I have ever seen. She is talented. It is all white lights, blown glass bulbs, crystal, gold and burgundy. It shines with the fame festive optimism that my mother represents.
During my college years, I used to love sleeping on the couch during my Holiday visit. Early in the morning my Mom would pad quietly into the living room and turn on the lights to the tree. She would sit down in her recliner and sip her coffee and enjoy the tree. I knew it was a moment in time very special to her.
Most of the time she woke me up. Sometimes, I would lay there with my eyes closed and pretend to sleep just listening to her rock the recliner, sip her coffee and enjoy her beautiful tree. Sometimes I would get up, pour myself some coffee and come back and sit down with her. We’d have whispered conversations before the rest of the house stirred. I cherish those moments with my mother. Simple, quiet and beautiful.
13 Santa Hats. Somewhere amongst the 45 boxes of Christmas decorations there is a bag full of Santa hats. Everyone must wear a hat while we open our gifts. It is always fun and we all love it. Dad grudgingly participates, but secretly I think he likes it, too.
Life is in the little things. The tiny porcelain trees. The road-kill head gear. The quiet moments. Every day I find something to be thankful for and something simple to count as extraordinary.
I’m grateful for the traditions that make O’Connell Holidays extraordinary. Sometimes I get a little sad wishing that all of the moments I mentioned will go on forever.
It is these twenty-something years where childhood traditions start to slip away. While I am sad to see some of them go; their absence leaves room for me to experience and build some special memories of my own.
Tonight my roommates brought home our Christmas tree. We got a live one and the living room smells deliciously like pine and packing dust from all the ornaments. This scent makes me feel like I am five years old. It has been a long time since I’ve had the pleasure of a live Christmas tree. I think I will have a live tree from now on—pine needles be damned.
The house is full of twinkle lights and fresh pine and red-dirt country Christmas music. And I am content.
Goodnight All,
Shaymarie.
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