Christmas Ghosts

Remember when we would make those sugar cookies? And ate the frosting till our fingers were colored? Remember when we decorated the tree? And yes we always squabbled over selecting the tree, but in the end it always turned out okay, right? The Angel would glow atop and we’d admire our clever placements of candy canes and clumps of tinsel. The electric train would race around the bottom as shiny wrapped presents began to mound. Now there is no tree, and the corner is dark and bare. The house is quiet. I sit here, cold and alone, watching the snow fall in fast fluffy flakes outside the window. But there is no one here to enjoy it with me, no one here to ache with me.

Which parent took all the lively Christmas tunes we began to play as soon as Thanksgiving ended and where have they put them? For now, it is eerily quiet. I can look over from where I sit and see our ghosts, linking hands to give thanks for our Christmas feast around our worn and second hand dinner table. We’d sit in our mismatched chairs but designated spots and eat our favorite dishes. Where is my place now? And where are all of yours? Where do we belong?

Now I must split my time. One parent is mad I’m not with them, the other is traveling far away… Little brother won’t be joining us this year, and the other despondent siblings are hiding. I just want to go back. Back to youth and bliss and ignorance. Beautiful ignorance where my world was golden and untouched by their problems and angers. Before I was aware, aware that not everyone was happy with the way life was. It was beautiful. I wish you could have seen what I saw for so long. I want my siblings and I all in our small matching red sleepers listening to dad play guitar in the morning. I want the sparkle and magic, the joy of surprises and Christmas lights hung outside the house, to let everyone know that festivity and delight were inside.

I want to hush the dog for barking at the holiday commotion and scold my siblings for attempting to peer into the bags and rattle the boxes. I want to sneak out at night and rearrange the nativity on the piano just the way I liked it. I want to build winter forts with our blankets and sit beneath them, trying to guess our presents in the other room. I want to snuggle on the couch and watch our favorite Christmas movies; White Christmas and It’s a Wonderful Life were common. I want my hands to grow cold making a muddy mess out of what little snow we got in our yard with my siblings. I want to perform in the Christmas choir performance and sing my solo with both of my parents supporting from the dim pews below.

And here I sit, in a dark, wintery shadowy house, clasping my cold cup of cocoa that catches my sparkling salty memories, as I watch our Christmas ghosts.