Fah La La La La la.....la....la.....ahhhhhh

Another Thanksgiving has graced its presence in this year of 2011, and our house is bursting at the seams with holiday decor which ranges from peace and hope to a version of the Grizwald's Family Christmas.  If you can envision the character, Chevy Chase, and his house; I think our house is a close second to his.  Imagine Mary, Joseph and Jesus meeting up at the nearest convenience store......that would describe my house in a nutshell. (Perhaps I'm exaggerating a little) 

I let the children take over this chore because I so love to watch the excitement in their eyes as we set up the lights and find just the right spot for that special ornament.   It was the same excitement I felt as a kid when we would take our ride on Christmas Eve with dad to look at all the holiday decorations in the neighborhood while "Santa" left his treasures.  The presents would not be brought until all the children had left. That was the story that mom was sticking to.  It was a time before cell phones and "I" whatevers, but dad  knew exactly how long to disappear before arriving home.  I used to believe it was so magical!   It's the same excitement I would feel coming home upon seeing our house lit up with Christmas cheer where Santa had so lovingly decorated our house with lights and the family Christmas tree.  I enjoy seeing that same excitement in my kids' eyes.  In decorating so early this year, we took some heat from the neighbors as we began our holiday traditions during last weekend's heat wave.  "How could you, it's not even Thanksgiving," was a comment we heard from our lovely neighbor.  We'll see how they feel in 20 degree weather climbing their rooves and handling their Christmas treasures.  It's only going to get colder, right!  So it made sense to me to begin a little earlier this year, and we were able to enjoy time together like taking walks in nature and watching movies during their school break.

The ache still lingers, though,  missing my loved ones.  I started my Christmas baking this weekend because I remember how my sissy loved my cookies, but it still hurts.   Through it all I feel as though I'm battling the choice to live differently through the traditions, living without the ones we love as we used to.  Everything is different.....at least it is for me.  I was not eager to face the approaching Thanksgiving Day, hoping it would leave quietly, as I didn't want to celebrate it.  I have lots to be grateful for, but I wanted to thank God in peace and quiet.  If it weren't for my kids and my mom's lingering words that "family is first, last and always,"  I would hve chosen to read a good book in the quiet of my bed, eating a cold turkey sandwich slathered with Miracle Whip, iceberg lettuce and a touch of salt and pepper followed by a slice of my favorite pie, washed down with an ice cold something.  That sounds lovely to me.  But my destiny is not of that making.  The holidays become time frames, talking about who can come and who can't, what foods to prepare, what to buy, and it seems to go on and on.  I may sound like Scrooge, but it becomes noisy to me, and that noise tends to drown out the peace in my heart, unless I take time to find it.  Peace is within all of us, but these holidays can sure shake it up, don't they?  I prepared our Thanksgiving feast with my sister, Sue, and my neice, Cassie, and our families, and we all understood.  Life goes on whether our loved ones are here or not.  Sometimes that just plain sucks to me.  Thank God for my children who encourage me to celebrate because the smiles on their faces make all the difference.  They are a blessing indeed!  I pray that I bring them the same visions of joy in this holy season just as  my parents created for me no matter how I feel inside.  Perhaps it's by the grace of God that we learn to experience joy, but it's a battle of the wills for me.

I hesitated to write this entry because it's not always what people want to hear.  Life is good, but there's also the reality that life is so different.  During this season of Fah La Lahing; I pray to God to help me see because my heart is having trouble seeing today.

Scent of a Woman

 I found myself at the perfume counter last week buying my favorite scented cream which I haven't bought for quite some time.  Usually I wait for Marty to give it to me as a gift around the holidays, but I've been totally without perfume except for some cheap brand that I probably found at Walgreens just to hold me over.  There I was smelling some of my favorite scents when I happened to catch a glimpse of the perfume brand that my mom used to wear, and the memories permeated my being. 

I immediately remembered her taking a bath, and she would pour it into her bath water, and the bathroom would be embalmed with my mom's familiar scent.  The younger generation might refer to her scent as an old lady's perfume.  Hmmm, come to think of it,  they might refer to my scent as old lady's perfume!  My own family has said that my perfume smells like "Aunt Barbie."  So there I was waiting for the sales lady to pack my product when I started enhaling that familiar smell of my mom.  It brought back so many wonderful memories!  I imagined her in all the familiar earthly places of my childhood:  up at school working, the PTO, the evenings out with my dad, her cooking over the stove and her loving embrace.  How I miss that motherly embrace, her unconditional love, her laugh, her spark, her laugh.  Hell, I miss it all!  Here I am 25 years after her death, and I still tear up thinking about my mom.  Perhaps it's the approaching holidays or hearing the Christmas carols, and my whole being is brought back to the fading time of my childhood.  I thank God for  those memories and yet; I curse them at the same time.  I wonder where it all went?  I don't feel the joy of the season when I know that I should.  Trust me when I say that I am trying to work through those negative feelings.  My Catholic faith tells me that I should.  I should feel God's blessing upon me, and all I seem to think of is what I don't have and how much I want it back. 

I loved watching every detail of my mom getting ready back in the day.  My minds eye can recall every facet of her applying her make-up, getting dressed, selecting the shoes and clothes, feeling her face next to mine when she kissed me goodbye, usually leaving remnants of her lipstick on my cheek.  Watching her get ready gave me the opportunity to chat with her and figure out how I would wear my make-up or choose my own clothes as I got older.  She took pride in her appearance, and growing into my own adulthood I have clung onto that familiar scent of hers.   I can envision  her particular walk as she strutted down our hallway in the house where we grew up.   As a little girl I remember watching her fade into the distance as she left for her social gathering, strolling out to the car and leaving me.  She actually left me!  What was she thinking?! 

As these holidays approach, I find myself drifting back, wanting to know more, and I realize that there's never enough.  I always want to know and learn more about her, but it's been awhile since anything new has been brought to my attention.  I still don't know why she named me, "Barbara".  It seems to be a mystery in my family, and perhaps she never shared that choice with anyone.  Who am I kidding?  Someone knows.  All of us women have a reason for selecting a name.  My own children at a young age have asked me why I named them who they are.  Maybe my mom just liked the name Barbara.  Perhaps it sounds trivial to some people wanting to know these answers, but I bet many of you can relate to what I'm saying, especially if you were adopted.   I'm not adopted myself.  Well, at least I don't think so?  My brothers and sisters used to tease me about being brought home from the Shell Gas Station......I was the free gift.   While I still don't know all the answers of my past;  I long for the scent of my mother; a scent of a woman whom touched me with many warm memories.