Felt
One of the advantages of my work is that I get to see what people are reading. In the course of handling requests, I get a feel for what's trendy at a certain time, at least among readers in my area. I'm exposed to new ideas and reminded of old ones I may not currently be considering. There is not, contrary to what some may think, any time for reading while working in the library. However, you do get a dose of serendipitous mental stimulation through titles, blurbs or cover art as the books pass through your hands. A few days ago, a group of Christmas craft books crossed my desk, including one that was solely about holiday decorations made from felt. Seeing the cheery but simple ornaments displayed on the cover reminded me of my daughter's first Christmas.
She was a day short of one month old then. My first husband and I were young parents, scraping to get by on the type of salary being young affords. We were living in a tiny ramshackle apartment behind a shop that repaired well pumps and eating a lot of off-brand macaroni and cheese because you could get two or three boxes for a dollar at the time. The drafty apartment had a single space heater, so we walled off a smaller living area with hanging blankets in order to keep the heat contained.
With a new baby and a husband working the night shift, my world was a sleep-deprived haze where I barely knew night from day, much less the day of the week. Yet somewhere in there was the knowledge that Christmas was coming, and we had little spare money to celebrate the season. I was desperate to mark the day, maybe because my days were blurring together, and I needed some sense of normal. So we found an inexpensive, artificial, table-top tree made of wire and strips of green paper. It had a sparse and somewhat mangled look, surprising when you consider that, as a constructed tree, it didn't need to suffer the imperfections of nature. Too small and frail to support a strand of lights, "CharlieBrowniest" would have fit it well.
We had the tree, but no ornaments to decorate it. So, in between caring for the baby, in those rare quiet moments when she slept, I brought out the scraps and pieces I kept for such emergencies and started to fashion decorations to suit our simple holiday. Most were tiny things of felt and string, pipe cleaners and paper. Skills and ideas learned in grade school art projects were put to good use that year. We ended up with a little bit of holiday spirit in the cold and dingy living room and the feeling that our new family would actually have a Christmas after all.
There were more tough years ahead of us. Being young parents is a road full of bumps and potholes, and the pressures of that struggle changed us both. But regardless of where we were at the end of it, there were some very bright moments like that simple Christmas to remember. Being poor, cold, tired and struggling may not be the ideal holiday experience. It may not be the place where I'd like to end up, but I am glad to have come through on that road. Though I am certainly happy and reasonably secure now, I will always carry with me how special those moments felt.
She was a day short of one month old then. My first husband and I were young parents, scraping to get by on the type of salary being young affords. We were living in a tiny ramshackle apartment behind a shop that repaired well pumps and eating a lot of off-brand macaroni and cheese because you could get two or three boxes for a dollar at the time. The drafty apartment had a single space heater, so we walled off a smaller living area with hanging blankets in order to keep the heat contained.
With a new baby and a husband working the night shift, my world was a sleep-deprived haze where I barely knew night from day, much less the day of the week. Yet somewhere in there was the knowledge that Christmas was coming, and we had little spare money to celebrate the season. I was desperate to mark the day, maybe because my days were blurring together, and I needed some sense of normal. So we found an inexpensive, artificial, table-top tree made of wire and strips of green paper. It had a sparse and somewhat mangled look, surprising when you consider that, as a constructed tree, it didn't need to suffer the imperfections of nature. Too small and frail to support a strand of lights, "CharlieBrowniest" would have fit it well.
We had the tree, but no ornaments to decorate it. So, in between caring for the baby, in those rare quiet moments when she slept, I brought out the scraps and pieces I kept for such emergencies and started to fashion decorations to suit our simple holiday. Most were tiny things of felt and string, pipe cleaners and paper. Skills and ideas learned in grade school art projects were put to good use that year. We ended up with a little bit of holiday spirit in the cold and dingy living room and the feeling that our new family would actually have a Christmas after all.
There were more tough years ahead of us. Being young parents is a road full of bumps and potholes, and the pressures of that struggle changed us both. But regardless of where we were at the end of it, there were some very bright moments like that simple Christmas to remember. Being poor, cold, tired and struggling may not be the ideal holiday experience. It may not be the place where I'd like to end up, but I am glad to have come through on that road. Though I am certainly happy and reasonably secure now, I will always carry with me how special those moments felt.
Very heartfelt! I love how memories like these come to us at random times.
ReplyDeleteWhile making cards with my Mom this year, she recounted a similar story of a year when she and my Dad were stranded away from home at Christmas. Their tree was a little shrub in a coffee can with tinfoil ornaments. It's often those times when things weren't perfect that we remember the best.
ReplyDeleteGreat post - thank you for sharing!
ReplyDeleteThanks, and welcome to the blog!
ReplyDelete