When we lived in our house in Ann Arbor, the first weekend of December meant it was time for our annual Christmas cocktail party. I loved entertaining, from designing the digital invitation to planning the menu to making the playlist.
G mixed up a batch of red and green cocktails and poured those all night. I made appetizers galore. Our little party was the start of the holiday season.
In those early years of couplehood, we’d pack up the car for the drive through Canada and across New York state to spend Christmas with G’s family.
Oh, those first Christmases with the in-law’s. Still aglow with falling in love. The car filled with our suitcases and presents for all. Bundled up in puffy coats and mittens. Playing Christmas songs from our first generation iPods. Stopping for caffeine in red and green cups. G pointing out landmarks and memories from his childhood. That’s where we would ski. Where we would go to the amusement park in the summer. That was where we lived before my parents split up.
After the New York holiday, we drove back through Ohio to stop and see my dad and have dinner together.
If we stayed home in Michigan, we fit in a visit to Greenfield Village. We strolled the cobblestone streets, listened to carolers, and my favorite, watched the glassblowers making ornaments. We dressed up and went out for a romantic dinner in Ann Arbor. On Christmas day, Mom and her husband drove down for brunch and presents.
Mom told me that as a child of alcoholics, Christmas was unpredictable. The season led to more festivities, more occasions for alcohol-infused arguments and maybe even dishes being thrown.
She said that she knew when she grew up, she’d make sure that her family’s Christmases were the way they supposed to be. Happy and joy filled.
She succeeded. I have nothing but happy Christmas memories.
For most of my childhood, we lived in a split level house. We had a formal tree in the living room in front of the picture window and a tree in the lower level family room that was more casual. I had my own little tree in my bedroom. All artificial trees. Mom was, how shall I put this politely? She was a neat freak. All she did was clean so she was anti-real trees and the mess they made.
This was more than enough mess to clean up:
We got together as a family on Christmas Day with grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins. But Christmas Eve was just for us, me, mom, and dad. That was always my favorite part. We’d open presents and eat cookies.
No arguments, no alcohol, no drama.
I remember when I moved into my single girl apartment and bought my very first Christmas tree. Mom and I went to Kmart after Christmas when the discounts were deep. I bought a full-sized tree and all the trimmings, ornaments, the skirt, lights, ribbons for garland. I loved that tree.
That tree with trimmed gold and mauve ribbons and ornaments became Our Tree when I met G. The first Christmas we had as a married couple, our gift from Mom was a totally new set of tree trimmings to turn that girly tree into a homey tree.
Right before we moved from our Ann Arbor house, we had a small flood in the basement. It didn’t do a lot damage, but it did get our Christmas tree.
We moved from that house to an 850-square foot apartment in San Francisco, so we didn’t buy a new tree. I still had the little tree from when I was a kid, so we used that.
In 2015, we returned home to Naples after mom’s funeral in early December. I’d been in Michigan for weeks in that house, helping to take care of Mom in her last days. After a night’s sleep in our own bed, G took me to the store the very next day and to buy a new tree.
That was the best thing he could’ve done for me.
We turned on Christmas music and decorated that tree. We went to the botanical gardens and surrounded ourselves with nature, beauty, and the holiday spirit. We binged the first season of Jessica Jones on Netflix. Seeing a kickass woman in superhero adventures was a great tonic.
Now we have a tree filled with those ornaments from Mom, ornaments from all the places we’ve been, and per G’s requests, candy canes.
We have our tickets to the Christmas display at the botanical gardens.
And we have trains!
I love that the more things change, the more they stay the same.
Thanks again for reading! I care about you. Please don’t forget to eat your greens.
***Written to Christmas tunes by Aimee Mann, Tracey Thorn, Leigh Nash, Ingrid Michaelson, Kacey Musgraves, Diana Krall, and Lauren Daigle, AKA my Girly Christmas playlist.
Ah so satisfying to recognize the completeness of Christmas tradition coming full circle and yet frozen in time.
Look at that little Mary Tyler Moore born to write!
We have a train too! Not as fancy as Gregg’s and yours lol.
Beautiful post, Kim! I loved seeing your trees throughout the years!