It's late November and my head and heart are in conflict. It's an annual battle and the deciding vote has (until recently) been cast by my children. That vote being to decorate or not.
For a family where religion is an option, traditional celebrations must remain flexible to accommodate
and validate each person. For years, we opted out of the religious component and it was a good fit. We had a collective spiritual connection within our familial group. We served the community without the constraints of belonging to one belief or purposely limiting our service to others in a pre selected location or physical building.
Thanksgiving and Christmas ran together; sometimes spilling into the new year. In our family, the tree was erected after turkey dinner and my husband stayed out way after dark to finalize stringing the lights. We had live trees and artificial ones on alternating years. We mixed previous year's ornaments with new. The ornaments bought when our children were born were hung at eye level; each year a little higher to compliment the height of each growing child.
The few fragile ornaments passed down to me remained high on the mantle, out of harms reach. The lights were blinking some years. Order and themed decor gave way to an eclectic mixing of favorites. It didn't matter if nothing matched because everyone helped.
And then the day came when it all stopped. The anticipation of the holidays became overwhelming and I know that this came about at the same time I began my own business. The days were long and unpredictable and the last thing I needed was to be uncomfortable in my own home. Everything was "house beautiful" and unlivable. It was like living in some one else's doll house. The chairs were not where chairs should be, the table tops and piano top were covered with red and green, elves and reindeer. Someone had to be home all the time to ensure the tree remained erect and not become the latest chew toy for the dogs or scratching post for the cats.
So everything was put into boxes and stored in the attic. Everything but a very old serving platter in the shape of Santa's face. That special plate was stored with old dog dishes and paper towels on the top shelf of the pantry.
I found it yesterday and finally realized it's purpose.
It's the only tangible item I have from my childhood and it didn't really belong to me until I was 40 years old.
It belonged to my mother's friend, Alice. Alice was my parent's next door neighbor. She was their neighbor when home was a furnished apartment in someone else's garage somewhere in Seattle. When they were newly married and expecting their first child through adoption, Alice was the one who bought all the necessary items to furnish a nursery and surprised them by placing the items in the apartment before we came home. As the story was told to me, the agency called to say that they were going to be parents one day and I came home the next. No time to go shopping, no time to get ready. Who knew the seven year wait would end in such a whirlwind?
Our family of three moved to the midwest and correspondence with Alice came by letter and a single visit one summer. I received birthday gifts for many years from Alice and as she got older she sent me "unbirthday" gifts because she couldn't remember the date anymore. I lost track of her somewhere in my high school years.
When I turned 40, our military life had us living in western Washington. For some unknown reason, I needed to know if Alice was still living. I wanted to meet her again and share that Mom had died and ask questions that only she would be able to answer. I found her excited that I tried to find her and she invited me for a visit.
On a crisp January day, my birthday present to myself was that long afternoon with Alice. Questions were asked and answered, tea and cookies were served for a post lunch snack. She baked the cookies herself stating that cookies baked with love and for a loved one were so much better than store bought. She was absolutely right. She shared pages from treasured photo albums which helped me put the pieces of my life's puzzle together.
Time with her passed much too quickly and it was time for my long drive back. She was fussing about the house, remarking that I must take something; something to remind me how I spent my birthday. Something to remind me of her, after all she was my Auntie Alice.
Her demeanor sweetened and she said "Just a minute, I know the perfect remembrance". She handed me the Santa platter; freshly washed and wrapped in newspaper because she didn't have any gift wrap on hand.
We embraced, and knew that it was the final visit. I cried most the way home. The dish sat on the passenger seat as a constant reminder of the unconditional love which had spanned decades. That love was genuine.
The paint on that beloved platter is beginning to crack and there maybe a chip on Santa's nose, but it's the only cookie plate I will ever use.
As for the holidays, perhaps it's time to bring out the elves and reindeer again and this year, the angel on the top of the tree will have a name - Alice.
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