Christmas in the New Place

In my family, we've always left the Christmas tree up until after New Year's Day. When the girls were little, it seemed like such a sad affair to return everything to the way it was Before, and I didn't mind postponing the task. I remember one year I stubbornly decided to wait until Epiphany to take it down, but realized that was really pushing my Christmas spirit. Today, only three days after Christmas, I realize I'm tired of pretending to be happy, and am ready to pack it all away.

My fake tree holds little charm for me; the decorations I did manage to find a place for in my new--very small--apartment/house look depressingly out of place. As survivors of the Great Moving Purge of 2015, they remind me that they used to occupy the  walls and shelves of a rambling, old
house that was home for a family. I put them up earlier this month, hoping their presence would bring me some of that lost happiness, but instead it seemed to make my loneliness worse.

I valiantly tried to retain some of our Christmas traditions; carefully unwrapping each tree ornament and reciting (in my mind) its history and significance; watching the beloved Christmas movies (alone); listening to beautiful Christmas music while making way too much of my special Christmas fudge; preparing scrambled eggs with cream of mushroom soup and holiday coffee for my solitary Christmas morning breakfast. I almost convinced myself that I was doing OK.

Now that the day is officially over and the last of the small gatherings have taken place, I can dump the excessive fudge I made and put everything back into storage. Outside, there is ice and a bitter, cold wind. I have the day off; it would be the perfect time. Traditionally, I tear the front page from the newspaper of the day I pack up and place it in the bottom of the ornament box. I've been doing that since 1989, when I was pregnant with my first daughter and knew my marriage wouldn't survive to see the next Christmas (it didn't). That day, I packed the ornaments with tears streaming down my face, convinced I would never be able to feel happiness during the holidays again (I did).

I haven't given up on Christmas; I still love it and still have hope and faith that I will find happiness in the season once again. But for now, it's time to carefully re-wrap my precious memories and tuck them away for another year. I think perhaps instead of trying to graft my family traditions to my solitary life, I need to start re-imagining what Christmas can mean for me in my present circumstances. Rather than mourning what I've lost, I need to look for the blessings I have now. But that's something to tackle later. Today--this morning--I will once again pack the ornaments with tears. It's the best I can do right now.