scent of our family’s Christmas tree. Quickly, we
stepped inside and closed out the cold.
Megan shuffled into the living room and knelt
down next to our treasured Christmas tree.
Careful not to knock it over or damage any of the
presents beneath, she plugged the lights into the
outlet. I found my favorite Christmas compilation cassette tape and pushed play. Bing Crosby
began singing “White Christmas” as each of us
grabbed a candy cane from the tree then plopped
down onto our cushy, brown sofa.
As I sat on the couch next to my big sister, the
moment froze in time. I became hypnotized
by the soft glow of the Christmas tree lights
and assortment of home-made ornaments. We
remained side-by-side sucking on our candy
canes, trying to see who could make theirs pointier. Like always—she won, so I crunched into
mine and savored the sugary peppermint on my
tongue.
The front door swung open again and in
strolled one of my half-brothers—though to me,
he was simply my brother. He looked over at me
and Megan with a loaded smile on his face, “Hey
guys,” he said. We waved back at him. He kicked
off his boots then joined us briefly on the couch.
He gazed across the room at the tree, drawn into
the magical moment.
“Is anyone else home yet?”
We shook our heads. Eventually the rest of my
siblings trickled in, followed by my mom and
dad. I ran up to each of my parents and gave
them a hug, blissfully unaware of the stormy undercurrent raging between them.
Mom changed into her Hawaiian Christmas
muumuu, tied a holly-covered apron around her
tiny waist and started preparing dinner. I hugged
her from behind as she sang along with Karen
Carpenter’s “Christmas Waltz.”
That night, just like so many others, we gathered around the table and ate dinner together as a
family. We spent the next couple of days building
snowmen, playing in our snow fort, and sledding. Occasionally we wandered inside to thaw
by our wood-burning stove and sip hot cocoa.
We ind ulged in various cookies and treats Mom
had spent hours baking. Mom and Dad wrapped
several last-minute gifts and added them to the
pile under the tree.
Christmas morning I awoke before anyone else.
I leapt out of bed and started yelling, “It’s Christ-
mas! It’s Christmas!” It only took seconds for the
rest of my family to wake following my outburst,
but to me it felt like an eternity. We all scurried
downstairs. Per tradition, we lined up just outside of the living room—youngest to oldest. We
waited outside the curtain that “Santa” had hung
across the doorway, blocking our view of the living room. I was next to the youngest, so I got to
be second. I danced around in line impatiently.
When Mom and Dad gave us the signal, we
drew back the curtain and entered the living
room in a frenzy. Lights sparkled and candles
flickered. The Beach Boys’ “I’ll Be Home for
Christmas” drifted softly from the speakers. Since
we didn’t have a fireplace, our stockings lined the
sofa, bursting with candy and trinkets.
“Santa” never wrapped the gifts “he” brought
us, so I immediately ran towards the tree and my
eyes honed in on the Tropical Barbie I had been
wanting so badly. My siblings did likewise with
each of their most desired gifts.
“Daddy! Daddy! Look what Santa brought
me!” I exclaimed as I hugged him gleefully.
My dad stroked my silky blonde hair lovingly,
“Wow! That’s great!” He smiled down at me,
but in my naiveté, I failed to notice his smile was
distant.
**********
“Are you girls ready to go?” The deep sadness
in my mother’s voice apparent.
“Yeah.”
My oldest siblings had already left for St Louis
to spend Christmas with their biological father.
I took one last look at our lonely Christmas tree
before picking up my suitcase. We loaded everything into the car, then headed towards the Cincinnati airport. I hate leaving Mom all alone like
this. But is it wrong that I can’t wait to see Dad?
My tangled, conflicting emotions threatened to
tear me into pieces.
Dad had paid extra for our plane tickets because we were unaccompanied minors. The
flight felt like an eternity, but finally we landed in
Boston.
“Hey Dad!” I nearly knocked him over as I
jumped into his arms.
“Hi, girls!” He looked older and hollowed out.
The past year had clearly been as hard on him as it
had been on us.
When we arrived at his little townhome, I
couldn’t help but feel disappointed. It smelled