Christmas carols floated into the small apartment's living room from a tablet hooked up to the kitchen speakers while Mom cooked dinner. The music clashed just a little with “A Christmas Story” playing on the TV, where two young girls sprawled like carelessly tossed blankets. Outside the living room window it was already dark, held back only by the gentle glow of one string of lights strung up in a hurry across the small windows.
Dad was running late again, though the children had grown accustomed to that. The real upheaval had come months before, when the family moved to Southern California so Dad could work in film. In some ways it made things feel more “normal” now that Dad left for work and Mom could work from home. Dad had never seemed content near their old Minnesota home, which puzzled the children. Why trade a big house with a yard for this tiny place and so many cars? Even so, Dad's return was always cause for celebration. The door handle jiggled as someone struggled with the lock.
“Ho! Ho! Ho!” came a voice booming down the hall.
“Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!” cried the children as they jumped up to meet him.
They dashed into the hall, unprepared for what met them. Rather than their father, a floor-to-ceiling pine tree came waddling toward them. They scrambled out of its path.
“What is this?” cried Mom half in shock and half laughing.
“Haven’t you seen a Christmas tree before?” said Dad’s voice, his face still not yet visible from behind the foliage.
Before long the tree squeezed through the hallway into the living room, and the children could finally hug Dad while his wife gave him a quick kiss. He propped the tree against the window beside the TV, then stepped back to admire his handiwork.
“Where’d you get it Dad?” said the eldest child.
“The lot around the corner.”
“You carried this a whole block?” asked Mom.
“Why not? It’s Christmas Eve. We don’t have to give up all our traditions since moving out here,” replied Dad.
His wife smiled and shook her head knowingly, as she had done countless times before. She turned back toward the kitchen and called over her shoulder, “Well, dinner’s ready. Let’s eat!”
After dinner, Dad and Mom sat at the dining room/kitchen table. Dad leaned back in his chair, one arm draped over the back, the other resting on the table around the base of his glass. The eldest daughter came running in wearing her pajamas.
“Dad?”
“Yes, baby.”
“Will it snow tonight?”
“Not likely. It almost never snows in Southern California and certainly not here.”
“Oh,” she said casting her eyes down. “I miss our home.”
“This is our home, remember?” he replied.
“I know, but I don’t even know how we’re going to celebrate Christmas anymore.”
“We’ll celebrate it as a family like we always do. Now go brush your teeth,” he said while turning her around an giving her a gentle push.
The children could be heard jostling with each other in the bathroom as they fought over the sink to brush their teeth. The Mom listened to them, laughing to herself, as she cradled her wine glass. She looked across the empty bottle standing on the table between her and her husband. His eyes were fixed on a pile of parcels on the floor next to the tree still leaning against the window, Christmas presents received over the past week from their mid-west family.
“What are you thinking about?” asked Mom.
“Oh, just wondering what we would be doing if we were back in Minnesota right now,” he answered her without moving or taking his eyes off the packages.
“You know exactly what we’d be doing. In even-numbered years we’d be at your aunt’s house with the rest of your family. In fact, judging by the hour, they’ve probably torn into their presents hours ago and are now figuring out who’s least drunk to drive home. Same thing they do…we did, when we were there,” she replied.
Dad chuckled slightly at the drunk driving remark.
Without lifting his eyes from the presents, he replied, “And in the odd years — no pun intended — we’d see your family on Christmas Day after church and open all their presents. Then crack open the wine and figure out how to get home.”
Mom nodded to herself then said to him pointedly, “So what’s bugging you?”
Dad snapped out of it and turned to his wife.
“Nothing’s bugging me. I was just thinking that the longer we stay here, the further our kids drift from the family traditions we grew up with,” he said.
“You know we can’t afford to fly home right now.”
“I know and I can’t take the time off work, yet. But still, I can’t help but feel like we’re missing something. Christmas just feels smaller now somehow.”
“Smaller?” she asked.
“Yeah, well, you know. Sometime tomorrow we’ll open presents, and that’ll be it.”
“That doesn’t sound too bad to me.”
“Yeah, but there will be fewer people. Less time spent. And besides, my family always opens presents on Christmas Eve.”
“Ok, but my family always waited until Christmas Day.”
“Santa comes on Christmas Day.”
Mom rolled her eyes again. They sat in silence for a while. Mom looked up to find Dad staring through the table, then she glanced over at the parcels on the floor.
“Well, why don’t we open all the presents we got from your family tonight?”
“What?”
“You said your family always opened presents on Christmas Eve. Well, we’ll do your family’s presents tonight and tomorrow we’ll do mine.”
Dad scratched his head for a moment, tilting it to one side, then turned back to look at his wife. A smile spread across his face, starting at one corner of his mouth and moving to the other.
“Oh yeah. Why didn’t I think of that?”
His wife rolled her eyes.
“Call the kids.”
“Hey kids!” Dad shouted.
The children ran out in their pajamas.
“What, Dad?” they asked, slightly out of sync, with the eldest leading as usual.
Holding them close, Dad looked them with large eyes, “How would you two like to…open some presents?!”
Screaming and hopping around followed, making Mom and Dad wince at the shrill noise.
“Which ones?” they yelled.
“Go find the packages from my family sitting next to the tree and we’ll open those tonight,” he said.
“Not until we’ve cleaned off the table!” yelled Mom.
But it was too late. The children were already digging through the boxes. Dad ignored her too, bending over the kids and setting packages aside. Again Mom smiled to herself and shook her head. She picked up a few plates from the table and turned to the sink so she could no longer see the kids and Dad, though she could still hear their voices through the kitchen doorway.
“And when will we open the other presents?” asked the eldest astutely.
“Well, we’ll open them tomorrow of course, just like we’ve always done,” replied Dad.
“Ah, it’s like we’re going to have two Christmases instead of one! Thanks Dad!”
At that last remark, Mom shot an indignant look.
“Thank your Mom,” said Dad quickly, “now let’s get this tree set-up first.”
By Holiday Guest Blogger Thomas Lopez
President / Latinas and Latinos of Mixed Ancestry (LOMA) Founder and Director
Thomas Lopez has been a member of MASC for over fifteen years and is a past president of the organization. He has made numerous television, print, and on-line media appearances and speaking engagements as a keynote and panelist. As a long-time board member he has also organized conferences, a mini-film festival, and diversity training workshops. Apart from MASC, Thomas is a mechanical engineer having worked in multiple industries the most recent being medical devices. He was born and raised in Southern California with parents from Mexican American and German-Polish roots.
