O Christmas Tree

I have not celebrated Xmas since 2000, the last year I had my daughter in my life at Xmas.  It is oft said that time heals all wounds. This has not been my experience.  The wound of losing my daughter is as deep, as cutting, as ever, I have just learned to live with it. It's a bit like living with a large blade in my side; like my body has adjusted to having the blade in it and if I move very carefully, mindful to avoid letting the blade shred any new flesh, I have stopped bleeding. Take just one injudicious step, and the gash bleeds anew. God, I hate my sadness. How I hate that it won't go away.

In recent years, I have tried, not very seriously, to acnowledge Xmas. Last year, I asked a friend to go to a holiday concert with me.  He agreed to go but then he never committed to a date and time, so it was worse than having never tried.

This year, I have been thinking about gifts. I have seen comments on Facebook, such as an old friend writing "just have one or two gifts left to buy".  I remember, as if I were remembering a novel, buying lots of gifts, investing much thought, time and money into the selection and purchase of gifts.  I never bought gifts for any but my closest ties. I once had a roommate who shopped all year for Christmas, buying all kinds of super cheap junk on closeout, like decaying 'gift' soap bars on closeout at a dollar store. Then she'd give everyone in her whole world a piece of junk at Xmas. I don't understanding 'giving' away pieces of junk that no one wants, just so be able to say "I gave everyone a gift".  I love giving gifts. And I have been known to give some very generous ones.  But, except for a few gift exchange deals in adolescence, where everyone in a clique gifted everyone, I have never given junk gifts.  Although now I am remembering a year when, my family moving away, I gave my best girlfriends in the old neighborhood some junk:  I gave each of them a gift package that came with scented powder with a puff, cheap cologne and soap:  all the same scent. Junk gift packages from Walgreens.  Yuck. But I was 13 and believed that was something grown up women wanted. I believed I was giving my emergent adolescent girlfriends a girly-but-grown-up gift. And, in that case, it was the thought that mattered. I was sad to be moving away from the neighborhood I had grown up in. Those gifts were for me.

I don't give Xmas gifts now. I have not given any since my daughter left me.  I don't even think about it.  I know women living on SSI (welfare for the elderly and disabled) who suffer for months to give lots og gifts. I long to ask them who they gift to, and why, and what.  How can an old lady who likely runs out of food money sometimes think she should give trinkets at Xmas? To a gandkid, sure, but who else?

Today, on my way home from one of my endless medical appointments, I bought a Christmas tree. A gift to me. It is just a Christmas tree ornament. But it is a tiny green-wired tree, with a tiny, shiny red star and a red bell hanging down.

It is hanging on a knob on the land where I surf, where I can see it all the time.

Oh Christmas tree.

It is not starting to feel a lot like Christmas.