Her Favorite Holiday

By Ivy Lu

I've always celebrated Christmas alone. It never really piqued my interest. Sitting alone on a rocking chair, knitting in front of the soft crackling flames on logs of wood; sorta makes me feel older than I am. I wish I could go back to how it was when I was little. 

Frost-spikes hang off the window sill like a phantom’s glassy fingers. The pine sweet smell of the tree ghosts through the room, mixing with the oaken oven scents. The star-flash of tinsel glittered brightly and ribbons of flame danced in the hearth of the fire. They chased away the burglar-black wall shadows and I sunk deeper into my couch. Waiting for our family’s Christmas meal. A sunrise warmth heated up the room, while the glow reflected to the angel at the top of the tree. An illuminating beacon of hope that sat uptop of every christmas tree, every year, every time. It reflects like river-light and looking at it stirred up memories I never knew I had. 

Outside the window, the world is a moonscape of white. The noise of feet on the powdery snow were like low, but soft crunches. This time of year was especially popular for children to run around all the time. I could see a group of children playing in piles of snow. They stamped their frozen feet and thumped their chilly bodies to warm up. Their ears tainted a light pink and turned an icy-purple where their scarves couldn’t reach. Nose-icicles dripped from their frozen faces. Their wheezy, wind-filled lungs were letting out steam as they laughed and ran in thick jackets and beanies. Some started skating. They slipped, slid and slithered on the polished ice that formed on the streets. I remember gazing out the windows, my hands made imprints on the freezing glass, with my warm breath fogging up small circles of cold glass. Every house down the block was decorated with strings of illuminated lights. Varying from every color in the rainbow, to soft lights of golden yellow. Inflatables of Santa, reindeer, and presents rested on the iced blades of grass in front of every doorway. It was truly beautiful. I couldn't go outside though, and sat on the couch waiting for mom to make my meal. It was only her. Though she was alone, my mom gave a smile brighter than the lights glimmering outside. 

I stared into the fire. It crackled and spat before hissing into life. Its lambent light stole away the velvet-black shadows dancing on the wall. Flames of rainbow-orange licked hungrily at the chimney as they clambered higher and higher. The fire’s hypnotic jig of joy was as much a celebration as ours. It wanted to be alive on Christmas Day also. A pageant of smells filled the house. Thyme-filled turkeys sizzled on the oven foil. They battled to take over from the lavender-scented candles and the hearty smell of crackers. The scrumptious smell of goose grease wafted into the room, sifting out the other smells. I was writing a list with the presents I wanted this year. I don't remember any though, I'm sure they were all dumb. 

“Honey, dinner is done.” Her voice was sweet. My mother who gently placed her baking mittens on the counter, gave me a smile and a nod to sit. 

In front of me laid plates of meals that looked like rows of foods only served in cartoons. Stuffed turkey, eggnog, mashed potatoes, gingerbread and milk. 

I didn't need to be outside with the kids running and having fun, and I didnt need Santas Christmas presents. Because I had one right in front of me. 

My father wasn't there when we had dinner, and the only person who ate with me was my mother. Now, this year I eat alone like always. 

I sat in front of a crackling fire. 

No tree. 

No plates of food.

No presents.. 

Just myself. 

Maybe that's all I needed. 

The empty skies were silent. 

It was the same like how it was last years 

Kids that ran outside, playing games and building snowmen, 

Lights that made every house look like ornaments on a tree, 

The windows lit in every house with a Christmas tree that flashed and flickered with its dazzling lights. I ate my meal alone. 

Though she isn't here with me, holding a hot tray of cookies and wiping crumbs off my cheeks.. Though there isn't a hanging tree with presents wrapped neatly with red ribbons, Though there isn't an overwhelming smell of symphonies of food.. 

Though I’m spending Christmas alone. 

Knowing that snowflakes with intricate designs still fall, 

makes the embrace of being alone feel a little less saddening. 

Because Christmas was my mom’s favorite holiday.

By Ivy Lu