Is it post Christmas depression? And I don’t even count myself as a real Christian. I like the gifts. The trees. Getting out the decorations. We even have a creche (or “crush” as Zo calls it). I used to love setting up the creche. My brother and sisters and I would all sit around the box, containing wrapped up figures, and take turns, all hoping that we would pick the baby Jesus. And not just some camel or an itty bitty sheep. And then pulling out the huge box of decorations that Mom had accumulated. Margo’s old silver (aluminum foil) star at the top, something she made a long time ago. The Santa candle that no one burned. The angels. The bells. Lighting the tree at night.
This year we cut down a tree as we always do.
I dared to wish for a small live tree in a pot. Dismissed. We live in the woods. So, out we went out with a saw and the girls. And dragged it home. The tree filled the living room. Which is the only downstairs room we have. We hung the colored balls, strung up the little white lights, and the girls only argued about a few things.
On Christmas eve we split up, Nat to be with his parents and son, and the girls and I to be with my mother and sister’s family. One of these Christmases we will all be together. I am tired of hauling everybody somewhere else. As if Christmas doesn’t start until you are somewhere else.
I’m tired of it, but this was different, since my mother is aging rapidly. I don’t thing that she’ll be in any kind of shape for celebrations next year, anywhere. She has dementia. I usually make everyone happy and go to Nat’s family’s house in MA, and then drive on Christmas day down to NJ. This year, Mom is in a single room in a “memory unit”. There’s no house. Even the house that I grew up in is gone (but we still have the key). With some smart finagling on my sister’s part, we ended up at the magnificent house of our amazing cousin Julie and husband Luis in Long Island. It was fun. Lots of kids. My sister and I took care of Mom. Not a small job.
So, it’s all over now, we’re all back, school has started up, and it’s 2007. Only I don’t feel like doing a thing. Mom is in the hospital with some infection, she’s really out of it, combative, fearful, and I’m afraid that this is how she will remain. I mean, it’s only a question of time. We know that. Can I wish her time to be over? Is that allowed?
Is that what’s making me question everything?
What am I doing here? And why?
Recipe for sanity: make chaos, put a little frame around it. Clean up the edges, so no one can quite see the fury and the insanity…work it so it looks good. There’s always something good in chaos. Trust me. But it has to have edges. So just put them there. Repeat as needed. Simple?