2021 February Flash Fiction Challenge: Day 11: I’m sure we can all agree that holidays post-COVID are a little strange. Whether you want to write about the new-normal, the holidays-that-were, or a brand-new celebration, today’s prompt is to write about a holiday!
Christmas, a time of lights, colorful window displays, lawn decorations, beautiful music, wonderful pine smells, cinnamon and disappointment.
I always loved the time between Thanksgiving and Christmas. People are more aware of each other, the poor get help, the hungry are fed, in church you become part of a beautiful pageant and, even if you are just a donkey or a lamb, you feel a part of something.
Then Christmas arrived and “Wham!” you are let down.
I remember as a young child, asking for all the latest gear that you’d see on commercials. Remember the slinky commercial with that great song. “It's Slinky, it's Slinky. For fun it's a wonderful toy. It's Slinky, it's Slinky. It's fun for a girl or a boy.” Or the Easy-Bake oven that had all those mixes to make all those pies you saw in the commercial. If you are old enough you might remember the one with that little girl and a Jim Henson bird puppet.
No. I never got them for Christmas. Years later, I did get an Easy-Bake oven. It was a hand-me-down from one of my mom’s bowling partners. It didn’t have any light bulbs and there were no mixes. “Just pretend!” I was told.
Every Christmas morning I woke with the hope that Santa would have come especially for me. After all the hype from commercials, people at school, the heightened awareness of everything around me, I got nothing that met my expectations.
I wanted a Barbie, I got a Mrs. Beasley doll. I wanted an erector set, I got more, plain, Lego blocks. I wanted a new dress, I got one that looked exactly like my three older sister’s dresses.
Later, for my own children, I tried to make it as special as I could. I didn’t ever want them to wake up on Christmas morning and not have what they wanted. I gave them rules though, I mean we didn’t have a lot of money. I would tell them, “You will get one thing on your list and it can’t be over $$.” Then I was free to buy them anything else that would be a surprise.
Christmas morning with my kids was always cheerful. I’d hide chocolate, I’d make up scavenger hunts, I’d do anything to see them smile, that the day met their expectations.
Never knowing what to buy each other, my husband and I decided a long time ago that his gift to me was that I could buy whatever I wanted. My gift to him was to not spend too much money. This way we didn’t have expectations and were not disappointed.
We did buy little things, just something to have in a box under the tree. We had to start that when my daughter got upset that “Mommy” didn’t have a present. So sweet, right?
Now my kids are grown and have their own lives. I still love the time between Thanksgiving and Christmas. I still love buying stuff for others. I have five great nieces and nephews, my two kids and my daughter-in-law, (yes I still buy them little something’s that arrive in the mail.), the pastor and the church secretary and a few neighbors are all beneficiaries of my shopping sprees.
For many of the last few years, Christmas was full of traveling to family and friends or they came home to us. Yet, when Christmas morning dawned, I still hadn’t escaped that feeling that something was missing.
This last Christmas, with COVID, I didn’t go anywhere. My husband and I made ourselves busy in separate parts of the house, neither of us wanting to confront the emptiness in the house. We watched a movie at the same time that our kids watched it then had a Zoom meeting afterwards. When it was over, we went back to our individual caves in the house. I didn’t know what to do.
Then it dawned on me. I am still expecting to get that slinky. Somewhere, deep inside of me, is a little girl wanting to make cakes with an Easy-Bake oven. No matter how much I try to get other things, to fulfill other expectations in life, I will never, ever fulfill those. Somewhere along the line, probably in my teens, I stopped asking. I stopped reaching out. I stopped expecting anything. I thought, “If they knew me, they’d know what I need.” No wonder why I was disappointed all the time.
The reason Christmas was so hard was that it was a time of fulfilling expectations. But, if those who loved you didn’t know what you were thinking, what you were expecting, they couldn’t help you. No matter how much you “hinted” at it, they most likely wouldn’t get it; regardless of whether “It” was a gift, a hug, a need, or a want.
Somewhere along the line, I stopped expecting anything. I stopped writing a list. “Why bother?” I still tried to ensure others got what they needed, but I stopped asking for myself. The more I showered them with stuff, the more likely they wouldn’t notice my inner struggle. I was still making pretend pies.
I’m tired of pretending. This year, I will spend time figuring out what it is that I really want out of life so when Christmas rolls around, I will declare my expectations. Will I get what I expect? Who knows? But, the hope will be there. It’s the hope that will keep you going.
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