I had a mini revelation on Christmas Eve. Michael, Kate, Jackson and I were getting in the car to join Elizabeth and Sutton on the beach at Dana Point for the second year in a row when I flashed back to Michael’s first Christmas.
Ruth and my David was almost the same age as young Jackson James when we loaded him, Elizabeth, and Michael for that 1978 ride to my parent’s house. The age gap for our three is three years and four months. Jackson is three years and three months. While I don’t discount the work involved in caring for a single child, we had three.
That 1978 Christmas was the second in thirty-one years that I didn’t wake up in my childhood home. Elizabeth was born in 1977 and with her birth Ruth and I decided it was time to start our own family traditions. Even then we spent the evening at my parents’ house. We just didn’t wake up there. That continued until Elizabeth, and then Michael, moved to California.
Ruth’s parents opened their gifts on Christmas Eve, so we went to Plainwell on Christmas Eve for our first six married years. David joined us for the last two, but after opening Christmas Eve gifts we headed to Royal Oak.
Traditions are funny things. They’re established by adults, who for the most part, have good intentions. Once they take hold, they’re difficult to change. I think most are brought about as a family’s structure changes. Many occur with the addition of a child or the passing of a parent. One is a celebration and the other brings heartache.
On my seventy-seventh Christmas, I found myself caught in the middle. Reliving my past, while looking forward to my future.
Well said! I remember having to break with going to my parents once we had our daughter. It was tough, but I remember my mom saying, “I wondered when you would begin staying at your own home for Christmas!” Our daughter was seven. Oh, the pull of tradition and family…….
Karen Rezny