The Christmases Past

I sit on the steps at the top of the stairs. It's the Christmas of 2012. I can hear my Mom yelling at my Dad.

"It's Christmas Eve, and you get drunk? What will Lydia think of you? She spent her life asking for a Father and when you came along she was so happy. What if she wakes up?" My Mom is doing that hissing whisper that adults do when they yell but don't want their kids to hear. It never works. The kids almost always hear and when they do, they are the ones protecting the adults. No parent wants to know that their kids have heard the most hurtful words spew from their lips. But it's true, that's what happens.

So instead of going downstairs, I choose to protect my parents and I tiptoe back to my room. I hold my breath until the door eases shut. I have the bedroom of a typical thirteen year old girl. A bookshelf in the corner, a good sized dresser, some windows, a bed. I climb into my bed and pull the covers up to my chin, but as hard as I try, I can't fall asleep.

How can this Christmas be so miserable? Christmas is supposed to be happy. I didn't even get to go to church.

I think this to myself, and suddenly I remember a past Christmas. This is the earliest Christmas I remember in detail. I was seven years old and getting ready to go to church. I remember having the prettiest lace dress, and seeing the nativity. I will never forget it.

*********

I slipped on my beautiful lace dress. My Mom had gotten this dress for me on sale. It was my Christmas dress, and it was the most beautiful shade of red you ever saw. I tugged open the door to my bedroom and walked into the hallway of the teeny little apartment we inhabited.

"Momma, will you zip my dress?" I asked her. My Momma smiled and she did as I asked. She looked at the dress on me and straightened my tights. She knelt, and pulled the tights out and up, like her fingers were climbing a staircase. Then she finished by pulling the tops of my white tights up my stomach. Next, She buckled my shiny, black shoes. They had a little heel and I loved them.

"You look beautiful." She said, smiling. I grinned and twirled for her. When she smiled, her tired eyes lit up like a Christmas tree, and the worry line between her eyebrows smoothed, making her look younger. My Mother wore a sparkly red shirt with nice black dress pants. She had given up on dresses after she gained weight when I was born. Nevertheless, she was my Momma and my best friend.

"Look Momma, we match!" I said. Her smile grew wider and she laughed. I gave her a hug, and we headed out the door. Momma locked it tight, and we began the descent on the steep staircase down our building. There were sixteen stairs total, I remember counting them as I went, lifting my feet and being careful not to scuff my shiny black shoes. I touched my foot to the pavement with my mother close behind me, the heels of my shoes made funny sounds.

"Lydia, you forgot your coat." My mother told me before she slipped the furry brown jacket over me. Momma was wearing her black and white coat. She loved that coat.

Mom unlocked the car and I slid into the back. The car was a hunter green Buick, a Park Avenue. It was the biggest car my mother could afford. Something to keep me safe, but also affordable. The real leather seats felt cool under my bottom and I squealed and squirmed as I felt the cold seep into the back of my dress. Then, I suddenly remember I was to be lady like and stop squirming. So I smoothed the lace of my dress and sat still. Once Mom got the car started, it was warmer. I buckled my seatbelt and we were ready to go. It was 10:50 at night, and it was a privilege to stay up this late. I needed to behave or Momma would make me go to the earlier church service next year.

When we finally drove off, I watched other cars on the road. I could see car exhaust in the crisp night air. There was no snow, oh but how I wished for it. I remember thinking about it for most of the car ride. I also remember how awful it was to find a parking space, but we managed, we always did. We had to walk a little farther, but I didn't mind. I got to look at all of the Christmas finery the church and the church-goers sported. While I didn't mind the walk, I was glad for the warmth of the church when a nice man opened the door for us. The gust of warm air in my face flushed my cheeks and warmed me to my toes. So I shrugged off my coat and stepped inside.

Outside the Sanctuary doors, there were to baskets with candles and little handles to hold the candles in. I took one, wondering what they were for. When I asked my Mom, she just smiled and winked at me. We took seats towards the back of the Church. The Altar was surrounded by poinsettias that made me sneeze. On a chain hanging from the ceiling was a circlet of blue and white candles held together by a circle of green leaves, there were two white candles, and two blue. Even the tiled floor seemed more festive and full of warmth. I took my seat and sat up straight with one leg crossed over the other. We sang carols to begin the service before the pastor began to talk about the birth of baby Jesus, the baby who would later become a man and die for my sins. Then pastor beckoned for people to come in. I was struck with wonder and awe.

The procession that walked in consisted of Children. Some wore long robes with some sort of headpiece. I saw some shepherds, and a few sheep wearing shirts and hats made of cottonballs. There were three children carrying boxes. In the front was a girl in blue, she was carrying a doll. The children then proceeded to act out the nativity. I loved it and clapped with everyone else after the children were finished. After that, the lights went out. I gave a little gasp, and Momma took my hand. She knew I didn't like the dark. But then I saw a light. It seemed to grow and illuminate people's faces. They were lighting candles. It was as if the light of Jesus was growing with each pass of the candle. When Momma lit my candle, I was careful to hold it aloft. I had a terrifying vision of me lighting somebody's hair on fire which made me hold on even tighter to the candle.

When everybody's candle was lit, the woman at the organ began to play Silent Night.

Silent Night, Holy Night!
All is calm, All is bright.
Round yon virgin, Mother and child,
Holy infant so tender and mild.
Sleep in heavenly peace,
Sleep in heavenly peace.

With each line, I could hear other more lovely notes resonating from the congregations voice. Everybody's voices joined together as one, even my childish sound. As the song continued, I looked around the church. All I could see were the flickering lights of the candles. I grasped my Momma's hand and continued to sing.

Silent Night, Holy Night!
Shepherds quake at the sight.
Glories stream from heaven afar,
Heavenly hosts singing Alleluia.
Christ the savior is born,
Christ the savior is born.

I imagined baby Jesus. I remembered vaguely how Pastor said nobody had room for Mary and Joseph, so they had to sleep in a barn. I thought about how if I had been in an inn that night, I would have gladly given up my room. Then again, those people didn't know Christ was the Savior. Then a more sobering thought filled my head. How Jesus later died on the cross for me and my sins. So I sent a silent prayer, thanking God and his son for allowing me to go to Heaven.

Silent Night, Holy Night!
Son of God, love's pure light.
Radiant beams from thy Holy face,
With the dawn of redeeming grace.
Jesus, Lord, at thy birth.
Jesus, Lord, at thy birth.

The song finished, the lights snapped back on and people began to blow out their candles. So I blew out mine as well. I was sad to see it end, the candles were so beautiful, the most beautiful thing I had seen in a long time. Even the beauty of my dress was nothing compared to the wonderful end of that service. I didn't complain when Momma hurried me to bed, I was so deep in thought. Well, about as deep in thought as a seven year old gets. After all, Santa was coming the next day! But I always kept the feeling of those candles and the hope they gave me in my heart. I had asked Santa for a Daddy, and I would get one. Santa was always good to me on Christmas. Somehow, the candles gave me the feeling that I would eventually get one.

Although I felt the hope of getting a Daddy that year, I didn't. I asked for a Daddy every year after that as well. I did eventually get a Father, but not until much later.

**********

As I lay awake in bed, recalling that memory I heard my Mom's door slam shut downstairs. I know my Dad must still be at the kitchen table, and that door slam probably woke half the neighborhood. I also know that my Mom was being harsh. Daddy made a mistake, but I've made mistakes too. So I get up, put on my robe and walk downstairs.

"Hi Daddy." I say. As he looks at me, I see how red his eyes are. I can't decide if it's from the alcohol or from tears, or both. I can see the shame in his face, and I know he really regrets it.

"I'm sorry Baby girl, I-" But I cut him off. I take a deep breath and look him in the eye.

"Daddy, I love you. Every Christmas I wished for a Dad, and I never expected to get one, let alone one as good as you. You made a mistake. It's okay, you aren't perfect. I've made mistakes too, and I know you love me no matter what happens. I love you unconditionally as well. Just promise me this won't happen again. Okay?" He nods and begins to cry. So I throw my arms around him.

My Mom comes walking in then, and she joins us.

"I'm sorry, Bill. I shouldn't have been so hard on you." They kiss, and I smile. Christmas is okay this year. I don't need to see my candles this year to feel the Christmas Spirit blossoming in my heart, but I know it's there. So I tiptoe quietly back up the stairs to my room. After I climb into bed, my last waking thought is of family and how thankful I am to have a complete family that loves me. I love them, more than anything or anyone else on Earth. I always have, and I always will.

Finis