The Magic of Christmas and Where It Came From
Not everyone gets the perfect Mom. I didn't. But I realize these days, that perfection can be highly overrated
My Mom was far from perfect. God and everyone around her knew it. But my best memories of childhood are tangled up in tinsel and garland and Glass Wax Nativity figures on our living room windows and Divinity and homemade fruitcake and the inevitable Christmas ham studded with pineapple rings, maraschino cherries and cloves.
Our house was alive at Christmas because she made it that way. There were always Christmas carols playing on the Hi-Fi and the smell of cookies baking greeted me as I walked in the door from school.
I inherited a natural abilty to make crafts and every year when I decorate for Christmas and make something pretty for a table, or do an arts and crafts project for a friend or relative, another memory floods my mind of my Mom's annual coffee table masterpiece or her famous fruitcakes which were only given to those who were "fruitcake worthy".
It was all mixed up in my young mind when having had too much to drink, she would go off on a tangent that more often than not ended up in an argument with someone.
She tried so hard to fight her demons..never more than at Christmas. But the times weren't kind to someone struggling with an addiction and help was nothing compared to what it is today.
I am grateful more than sorry that she was my Mom...especially at Christmas
