By Alvin Peters
As Josephine walked through the front door of her parents’ home, her mind’s eye opened to the sights, smells and sounds of wonderful family memories.
The fun and laughter that accompanied seeing the results of cooking, cleaning, and decorating. Then putting up the crèche and singing carols and later going to church that evening.
The next day, waking up and discovering that ‘Santa’ left everyone lovely presents. These were a reassuring sign that no matter what, in this home there was warmth and love.
But as she walked through that portal, something was amiss. There, seated in their recliners, were her parents still in their robes.
“Is everything okay?” Josephine asked trying to figure out what was wrong.
“Yes, everything’s fine,” her mother said.
“Are you sure?” she asked. They continued sipping their coffee.
“It’s two days before Christmas and the house isn’t Christmassy.”
“No,” her father said. She pressed on.
“Mommy, why aren’t you baking bread, ham, and black cake? Daddy, why aren’t you decorating and putting up the tree?” They both seemed oblivious to her concerns.
With growing frustration, she asked, “Why aren’t you doing anything?”
“Why should we?” they both asked nonchalantly.
“Because that’s what we do to celebrate Christmas. It’s what we have always done.” Exasperated she cried, “What’s wrong with you?”
Her father cleared his throat and gave her “the look”. The one where he arched one eyebrow and stared at her. The last time he did that was years ago. She quietly sat down.
“Josie,” her mother said, “that’s the problem. It isn’t we who prepare the house for Christmas anymore. Don’t get us wrong. We’re happy that you are on your own, living your life and it’s wonderful when you visit but sometimes, we feel like we’re fulfilling some sort of holiday nostalgia. You come here, you enjoy your Christmas magic and then you leave.”
“Off gallivanting with Ronald,” her father muttered.
“Rene,” her mother said looking at her husband sternly, “you promised not to bring that up.”
“He had better ask my permission first, Jo.”
“Later, Rene,” Mrs Callender said with a tone of finality.
Josephine was relieved when her mother ended that conversation.
“So, we thought about it” her father said, “and have decided that if you want that Christmas magic, then you will have to conjure it up.”
“What do you mean?” she asked hesitantly.
Her parents gave her an extensive list. Her eyes widened as she saw the look on their faces. They were serious.
“I can’t do all of this now with Christmas right around the corner!” she protested. “What about our traditions? I thought they mattered to you. It does to me. I don’t understand.” She got up and sulkily went to her room.
Later than afternoon, her father knocked on the bedroom door and entered. “I bring tidings of happiness, hops and ham and hot chocolate.”
She quickly sat upright concealing something. “I thought I was supposed to do the chores.”
“And we’re holding you to that,” he quipped, “but you don’t expect us to starve, right?”
“What is Christmas without tradition?” Josephine said glumly. “When I have a family of my own, I want to have some of these traditions too.”
“Tradition is wonderful,” her father said, “because it reminds us of who we are, but it shouldn’t be a means to an end.” He looked fondly at his displeased daughter. “We don’t want to do these things because this is what we have always done and besides, it’s tiring, and your mother and I aren’t getting any younger. I don’t want my Christmas memory to be feeling exhausted.”
“What should we do instead?” she asked.
Her father replied, “Let’s do some cooking, tidy the house a bit then put up the crèche and the tree. Oh, and put two veggie pastelles for Santa. He is watching his blood pressure, I hear.” He managed to get her to smile a little.
He continued, “Jesus doesn’t want us to be so tired that we forget to welcome Him into our home.”
Josephine said, “I’m sorry for taking you both for granted.”
Her father kissed her on the cheek, “Thank you.”
“When you and Ronald….” her father began.
“Daddy…” Josephine groaned mockingly.
“When that happens,” he laughed, “then you both can make new traditions. Take what is good about the old and make it beautiful and new.”
“Are you sure we will be able to finish before Mass?”
“I think so but let’s finish this first.”
They were about to eat when he said with a mischievous smile, “By the way, I know I just said we can make new traditions but when is Ronald going to talk to me about the engagement ring you hid under the pillow?”