I have been known to describe myself as a fluke of genetics. It has never come from a place of sadness or complaining…just an observation. My parents are quiet people for the most part. My dad is a man of few words, and doesn’t waste any until he has something to say. My mom is reserved in most situations. I am not these things. I’m loud and thrive on “performing” for a crowd. I’ll do almost anything for a laugh. I have a lot of memories of me dancing in the kitchen and my parents giving that “oh she’s doing it again” look, and moving on with their day.
My mom’s side of the family makes me look like a circus performer. They are hard working farmers who will do anything in the world for me, except answer questions with full sentences. One word answers, grunts, or just looks are their favorite ways to communicate. I am not bad mouthing my family…just trying to give you an adequate picture. Family dinners are practically silent except for forks scraping plates, and mom and I quietly whispering how nothing has changed.
Even among the quietest families, there are traditions. On Christmas day, we all sit in a circle of furniture in my grandmother’s living room and exchange gifts. We all have our assigned seats that were never officially assigned. We open gifts simultaneously and there’s a lot of eyebrow raises and head nods.
As you know, I lived overseas for several years and missed multiple Christmases with my family. The new tradition during this time was skyping with the whole family, which meant they said hello, and then mom and I talked in front of them. In the moment, it can be frustrating, but looking back, the little quirks of my family bring a smile to my face every time. A couple years ago, I was able to be home for Christmas which was such a treat. Overseas, I longed for that quiet room full of people answering questions with single words and grunts. Nothing had changed. We made our way to our seats in the living room for the gift exchange. I was in between my mom and my uncle, which looking back, was not my usual seat. Mom leaned over right before everything started and said, “It’s good to be back in the circle, huh?” Before I could respond, my uncle said, “You never left the circle.”
Good grief! Talk about almost coming undone in front of my whole family. It was the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard him say. In that little sentence, he told me how much my family loves the people in it, even though deep down, I already knew. It was something about those out loud words that I needed to hear. Those words still make me feel so loved…. and tear up in this public coffee shop where I’m writing.
This last Christmas the circle looked different. We were all there, but it was in a nursing home, where we all expected it might be my grandmother’s last. She was in a lot of pain, but mustered up the strength to sit in the circle and open some gifts. We all tried to be really strong, but I could tell we were all trying to remember past Christmas circles instead of the current one where we were sitting.
Last night, mom called me with the news we all knew was imminent. Grandmother had passed away. She is no longer in pain and she’s getting a personal concert from Johnny Cash, but the loss is still felt. Time teaches you hard lessons about life, aging, and people coming and going. We’re all gonna get together in a couple days. It will be quiet again, mostly because my family is quiet, but also because who knows what to say at those things. One thing we all know…she’s never gonna leave the circle.
Wander Susan Wonder 