An Urban American Christmas

The cookies and milk were on the coffee table.

She had earlier baked them with her children. Chocolate Chip. It is their preferred Christmas or any time cookie. Each one had a bonus Hersey kiss in the middle. The children kiss each kiss before putting them in the cookie. It was their way of kissing Santa for the presents he left.

Three cookies. Three sticks of carrots. Three stocking hung on the wall with care.

Three empty stockings. Hung right there by the corner by the $25 special Christmas tree. Fake. The glade plug in behind it smelled of pine. She had got the tree on clearance after Christmas two years ago. That year she told the children Christmas was on December 27th. It gave her time to get a discount tree and toys. But they are a little older now and the schools clue them in to the right day.

She sits on the floor. She reaches for her long necked beer. Slowly. The six pack was her Christmas present. She bought it for herself shortly after a co-worker wished everyone get the presents they were hoping for.

The scene: The office Christmas meeting where no-one is paying attention to business. They all got a scratch ticket, candy cane and some candy in a small fuzzy stockings. This was what was left of Christmas bonus in corporate America. She is old enough to remember when it was not this way. She is smart enough to know that top 10 people in the company get hefty Christmas bonuses. She is wise enough not dwell on it. The woman. She barley knows her. She knows she has a husband with a good job. She knows she doesn't understand anyone else's life situation out side of her own. Then she says the words, as if every woman there had a husband, or one who cared to find out what she wanted and had been planing for weeks. Reality was most the women there were single mothers.

She got a pass.

It's Christmas Eve. 'Happy Christmas, you short sight bitch' she thought.

She doesn't often give careless short sight people words that stab to her core a pass. People without the understand or not. But she considered it her Christmas present from her. The 'Office Bitch' didn't put her in her place.

She left work without a word. No Christmas partings, no good cheer. Her supervisor was happy for her holiday gift, to keep her sharp tongue and any reminders that her life didn't work like that to her self.

She drove to the store of spirits and got her self some. The others who came to drown their sorrows between the party goers seemed more full of cheer than her.

On the ride home she listen to one of the same 10 CDs she had listened to since November 1st. That was the same day half the radio stations started playing Christmas music.

She wishes the t.v. would brake during this season of joy. She kissed her young children as she put on the latest Christmas special. She never put the claymation and sugary sweet holiday programs down.

She smiled and sang along when they sung the Christmas song they were practicing for their schools Christmas pageants. She could not go to a one of them. They understood. Mother worked hard, but was there for them when they really needed them. Anyhow their friend's mothers would tell them how great they were.

Kids adapt in ways adults don't often comprehend. When the other children's mother say "what a shame.", "Those poor kids" and "She could have taken one day off to show her kids THEY were important." The children shrug it off. There was the first year when little Susie kicked a few mothers in the shins and called them bitches. When Mother was called from work and heard what had happened she replied to the mothers who were outraged "Sounds like you are bitches. Want some ice cream Susie?"

But here, in her car, old, beat up, falling apart, this was her zone. In her zone Christmas didn't exist.

She used to love Christmas. Everyone used to who doesn't like it now she believes. But there are no presents for her. She can not get her children "that one great gift they want to get" and if she see one more commercial where a man buys his woman some fucking unrealistic piece of jewelry or a car she will throw the t.v. out the window. 'Do they really need to be told what to spend $30,000 or more on when they have that much to spend on their women?" For this was more than she made in a year. She wonders if the more money you have the less your ability to know the person you are suppose to love. She decides she will never loss that ability when she has that much money.

A month ago: She withdraws her Christmas fund. She had all the hopes to get the children a games system and 3 games for Christmas.

Winter's wind came early. The house got real cold. About then the oil ran out. She thought about the game system and the three games when she handed most of the money over to the oil guy with a smile and a thank you. She shut the door and began to cry.

She called her ex. She begged him for some of that child support he owed her. He spent a half an hour calling her a selfish bitch. You see he moved on and he had to buy presents for his girlfriend and new baby. She got called a gold digger and was told to get a lawyer if she ever wanted to see any of it. Then he laughed and explained how he knew how to hide it all anyway. All his money was untraceable. He was an electrician. He worked under the table. He had told her he never wanted to see 'those little leaches again' and 'they are probably not mine either.' . Around then she hung up. Tears were her constant companion this time of year. They were making her look old real quick.

"Divorce is never easy on the children."

To many people told her that over the last 3 years. 3rd Christmas since she felt as if she was alone. Her and her kids against the world. Oh she had friends. No-one she could count on when the chip were down. She learned to pretend while knowing the reality of the situation. It was a duality she believed other's did effortlessly. Or maybe they just didn't know.

The children adjust quickly. Most of their friends were from divorced family and those who weren't divorced yet were not conventional by any stretch of the imagination. She liked them most of all.

It was her who did not adjust quickly. She became a survivor. She would sing the song by Destiny's Child over and over again. It became a manual for her life. But it really didn't tell her how to go beyond that. She is realizing surviving is not living. She started searching other songs for divine wisdom. She has yet to find the right one. She just found one who told her to drink her money and start a fight. This is also not working out as well as hoped. Though, it dose make her feel better for a while.

"NANA NANA NA NA NANA NANA NA. So what, I'm still a rock star..." She sings while sipping her beer.

She knows she needs to stay away from Janis, Country music and the Blues. Some music was made for the self pity just broken up stage. She was past that. She was just not ready for any pop silly love songs yet. They still made her want to puke.

She puts in Fun House in the stereo and starts dancing to 'So What'. Sings off key and starts her second beer.

She stares at the 3 stockings and the tree without anything underneath.

Slowly she goes to the closet and takes out some bags and wrapping supplies.

3 small presents get wrapped . One for each one of them.

At work they had a toy drive. She had wanted to ask where they were giving out the toys every time she saw one her children would like. Her poverty stricken friends told her she should bring her children to the toys for tots Santa. It seems they always get great gifts for the kids there. They do. She has seen them every year. The kids don't know. They are happy with the toys. She felt it was begging. Begging for something that was a luxury. She was taught not to beg as a child. Don't even do anything close to begging. Don't ask, don't take when they feel sorry for you. Have pride.

She did have that. She had her pride. She was hoping she was teaching her children the same. She wonders if it was an outdated notion. Should she continue to deny her children for a pride her mother and grandmother taught her. No one seems to have it any more. You are not expected to. Then you are expected to act overly grateful. Pride in poverty was better.

She wraps 3 more boxes. She places them under the tree.

She remembers her grandmother talking about how the Salvation Army gave her grandmother and her great aunts and great uncles all oranges when they were children. That was their Christmas present. Her and her siblings got an orange and they were happy for it. Ever since they always gave money in the kettles. Even this year , she gave up her change to the kettles and bells. A tradition she told her children "there is always someone worse off than you."

The news on the television talked of a little boy that died in a fire. 'That poor mother, she is worse off tonight.'

Her family doesn't believe in divorce. She never knew anyone divorced in her family before. Now she knows why. They cut them off, they cut them out. It was like she didn't existed anymore to them. She went to huge family Christmas Eve parties. Uncles, Aunts, Grandparents, cousins and odd love interests or friends that tagged along. As soon as she could not work it out with her ex that stopped. One of her aunts quietly took her aside the first year without him and said "It would be so nice if you and your children were not here. You really are bringing us down. You could have tried harder to work it out, dear. And we just don't believe in divorce." She grabbed her children, took them out of that house and never talked to any of them again. Not that any of them made the effort to talk to her. No Christmas cards. Nothing. She ceased to exist.

Third long neck. 'That was the moment in time. That was the minute I started surviving and stopped living.' It's good to put things in time lines. She was an orderly person. Everything in it's place. Even her life events.

She opened up a bag of cheap Christmas candy. She evenly divided it among the 3 stockings. She topped each one with a candy cane, she had got at work and put a orange in each one.

The cleaning up was quick. Her bottles clinked as they got rinsed out in the sink. She looked it all over. Sadness still lingered in her. Shutting off the light she sulks off to bed.

Children awoke her, they brought with them the morning light.

"Santa came, Santa came, Mommy!" They chanted as they bounced on the bed.

She got up, and fell onto the couch. "Go on children, open your presents."

They all went for the bigger box first. Wrapping flying everywhere , she wonders why she bothered. What took 30 minutes to wrap took 3 seconds to unwrap.

"Oh, Dora!"

"Hanna Montana!"

"Curious George!"

Ah good they all liked their pajamas. "Do you like them?"

A round of "yes" came from the children.

On to the small ones.

A small electronic game each.

It was not a PSP or game boy or even an mp3 player. She felt incredibly guilty. But they were happy. It was as if they didn't notice.

"Do you like them?"

"Oh, yes, Mom! Can we have the stockings?" They knew candy was always in the stockings.

"Not until after lunch, dears, you know the rules. I will put on Christmas shows while I make breakfast."

"Can we have our Christmas oranges now?!" They shouted.

"Of course! Enjoy the juicy orange goodness. Happy Christmas, babies! Special chocolate chip pancakes are for breakfast."

A round of cheers came from the living room.

She sleepily walks into the kitchen to make pancakes. She hears them singing to the t.v. show. "You better not cry, you better not pout...."