Laurie Snider
Notes from the Nest
Glancing out my living room window, I see the dark silhouettes of branches gently swaying, as the cold, December wind huffs and howls. Fluffy, white flakes are beginning to fall; dancing, swirling, delighting, before playfully joining the thick, white blanket of snow, forming on the welcoming ground.
Snow also settles lightly, onto the cedar-rope garland, festively draped around the door frame and sills and onto the wreaths and seasonal greenery adorned with bright, red Christmas bows. There is a feeling of Christmas about.
Every family celebrates Christmas in its own unique way. Since our children have grown, I find I’m more reflective about the Christmas rituals we have participated in as a family; what to keep and what to let go of.
Customs and traditions are the glue that bind families together. They’re emotional touchstones that keep us grounded and make us feel safe and secure, when the world around us shakes us off our feet. Comforting rituals and family traditions give us a sense of security and stability, like the rising and setting of the sun and moon each day.
When growing up, around mid-November each year, my sister, brother and I would help our mom make Christmas cake. It was an annual event we looked forward to each year. We’d gather round the kitchen table, dicing up the candied fruit and nuts. Snipping the apricots was the favourite job, as this was the only time of year the tasty little dried fruit was available.
Mom would mix the batter and we’d add the carefully prepared fruit and nuts. Once baked, she’d wrap the whole thing in soaked cloth and foil and leave it to age for the next several weeks. Fruitcake has become the butt of jokes but I love a slice of the dense, dark cake served with a cup of tea, on wintery afternoons.
In recent years, Mom has hinted she may stop making it, which sends me into a bit of a panic. I’m not certain it’s the cake itself I can’t let go of but rather the memory. This was of a happy time from my childhood, spent with my siblings, as the anticipation around Christmas was building. Mom’s fruitcake is the string that ties me to that memory.
Decorating our home and tree together as a family also gives me a warm case of the fuzzies! We have 10-foot ceilings so are able to accommodate a tall tree. Together, we’d trek out to the local Christmas tree farm and select a natural beauty.
Once Randy would wrestle it into place, the rest of us would join in, adorning it with lights and decorations. We have quite an eclectic mix; lovely Hallmark beauties, special ones to mark noteworthy events, gifts from family and friends and my favourites, homemade ones.
Of course, we’ve had our difficulties too, like the year the cat knocked it over, scattering ornaments in every direction. Then there was the year Randy forgot to trim an inch off the bottom before placing it in its stand. The poor tree was unable to absorb the proffered water. A mere whisper would cause a cascade of dried out needles to fall off the branches, landing in clumps on the floor. The week before Christmas, it looked much like Charlie Brown’s. We gave in and replaced it. I’m far less sentimental about decorating a tree, the second-time round!
Despite the fact that our children all have places of their own, Ellie is still quite insistent on helping us decorate here. There’s usually a tasty meal involved and during the decorating our old VCR tape of Christmas specials is viewed; Rudolph, The Grinch, Charlie Brown and Frosty. It crackles and pops and gets fuzzy in places. I taped it myself, from the television, before DVDs became so available. I could replace it but it’s the one she wants to watch. I’m not sure how much longer this tradition will continue but as long as she’d like to participate, we’re happy to have her.
Christmas movies in all their sappy, sentimental glory are also favourites around here. Curtis, our oldest has a knack for memorizing movie lines. He regularly pulls them out of his hat, adding humour to our daily round. Even when he isn’t here to watch them with, I’m reminded of the many times his quick wit and welcome silliness have brightened my days.
Life is different now. It’s important to be flexible, making room for new customs and traditions. Things change, people change and circumstances change. I must be accepting and change with them. Easing into these transitions is easier by savouring sweet memories from the past, as we find new and meaningful ways to celebrate with those we hold dear.