December is on its way. You are all in the countdown until Christmas. I can hear you all wrapping and plotting. Writing lists and checking off names. Putting up Christmas Trees. Rediscovering decorations. I know you are thinking about what you will eat and who will be at the table. You will wonder whether your present is the right one and maybe what you might receive. You will think about the music and what wine to serve. Christmas will be a delightful focus for you in the month ahead. 
But not for me. You see I don’t have the Christmas spirit. I don’t know where it went. Well actually I do know where it went. I am quite prepared for a blinding silence as you read this. That hauled in breath. I know it is your favorite season. But I need to get this said. I need to get these words out of the way if you like. I am not good with Christmas. Our John calls me the Grinch. But that is OK because it means I don’t have to explain or pretend to behave any differently. And really it is hard to understand. I will try to explain it to YOU though, why my heart elevates to an unreachable place at Christmas. Why my soul becomes a watcher. Why I go into a hiatus. A waiting time. A flux.
When my children were small their father and I separated, then divorced. I was in my late twenties. I had five live children. My own mother had already died, my own family dispersed. Every year after that, for fourteen years actually, I spent Christmas alone. My children went to have Christmas with their beloved Grandmother. Their fathers mother. She was a wonderful person, she adored her grandchildren. She died a year ago and I know my children will miss her terribly this Christmas. Every single summer they would travel almost to the top of New Zealand with their father and have Christmas with Oma and Opa. This was their tradition. I am deeply grateful that we ensured that they were with her each year. My kids and I are very close. We kind of grew up together. They understand this Christmas thing. We did the right thing at Christmas. 
Now please don’t get me wrong. I was not a sorry orphan at Christmas. I woke up alone on Christmas morning but I had friends to visit, usually for an early breakfast. Then they would go to their families for lunch, (twice I was even kidnapped to go to their parental homes with them but it was not right because my aloneness followed me like a silent cat, I was hopeless) so turning down all their kind offers to accompany them, I would proceed to my project. I always set myself a Christmas Day Project. I had a wonderful darkroom in an old walk-in safe in a very old abandoned railways workshop right beside the sea. It was an enormous mystery of a space. So I would take my dog and work in there. Just close the door and be gone for hours. With my antique enlarger and my rickity timer with its loud click, click. Darkrooms are perfect for absenting yourself. Time means nothing in a darkroom. 
When I came up for air (literally) I would go home smelling of fixer, wet black and white prints drying on a towel on the back seat of my family sized station wagon and I would make my Christmas lunch. I always ate the same thing. For my Christmas Dinner every Christmas, I had fillet steak and mashed potatoes with gravy (made with Marmite of course) and a salad. For years I rented the movie Breakfast at Tiffanys. Every year I would pour myself a glass of champagne, sit on the couch, put my bare feet up on the old scarred science classroom coffee table with fifty year old rude words carved into it, all the windows open to the day and eat my fillet steak and mashed potatoes with gallons of gravy and say Holly Golightly’s lines for her with my mouth full. I know this sounds a bit sad but really it was not. My kids were having a great time. They would spend the whole afternoon at the beach with their grandparents, cousins and family. They always did. They were not with me so I was with myself. I was still. Does this make any sense? No-one bothers you on Christmas day. Stillness and aloneness are allowed.
Later that day in the lovely warm Christmas evening I would take my three legged black dog whose name was Marzellet Mazout the Marzipan Kid and we would go for a walk. A really long walk. No-one is on the roads at Christmas, all the shops are closed. All the cars are gone. On Christmas afternoon New Zealand goes to the beach, so the coastal town became my own town. There was a magical Christmas hush that I used to believe was my consolation prize. This massive empty moment, when you long for your children’s voices but know that they are well and loved. Not being all together is OK. My aloneness was OK. I walked. Time ceased to matter. The endless clatter in my head gentled. 
But along the way I lost the day. Christmas Day lost me. Like a bright red balloon my Christmas Spirit unravelled from my fingers and floated away.
Of course Boxing Day was a completely different story. Boxing day was party day at Celi’s. My bright scented garden would heave with friends and music and laughter on Boxing Day. We would carry couches and tables and chairs under the trees and have ourselves A Time. But I can still feel my Christmas Day stillness. The Christmas Day waiting. It was strangely precious. No mirror. No acting. No pretending. Just a deep quiet that no other day offers.
I do give Christmas presents, but not always on Christmas Day. I love to give presents so I give them when I find them. I am hopeless at wrapping and keeping secrets. I do not understand Christmas Trees.
I am again without my children this Christmas and so I feel that stillness approaching like a silent cool low mist. You never grow out of missing your children. From the moment they are born you are afraid when they are out of your sight. There are many, many parents like me who know this. Many, many parents who spend Christmas Day alone. Many, many people without children who spend this day alone. A few of my own children will be without family far away out there in the world.
And if YOU are alone on Christmas Day, then you are in good company. Being alone is like being Free. You have time to Make a Plan. Let it be special.
c
The Kitchen's Garden 
122 responses to “The Christmas Mist – Alone on Christmas Day”
Thank you,Rosemary. What is cooking in your kitchen today!?.. c
After my divorce but before the next set of kids, some holidays were like that for me. Like you, I learned to have projects at the ready. I didn’t want people feeling sorry for me. That quiet time can be exquisite.
Exactly, if you are moving fast and keeping busy, people don’t feel bad for you. I still love quiet time, i think this is why i am so drawn to farming, a lot of it done alone.. c
Beautifully said, C. And I think Christmas is really all about traditions – whatever they may be, it’s important to keep them up and be comfortable doing what you are used to doing on Christmas.
And it’s funny you watched Breakfast at Tiffany’s (one of my favorites), my Christmas movie is Roman Holiday :).
Roman Holiday, oh that gorgeous skirt she wore by the fountain.. ! I still love Breakfast at Tiffany’s, maybe I will get get it out again this year, maybe I will.. c
I find nothing at all sad about your Christmas days alone. I hope this doesn’t sound patronizing but I think it was a good thing you did to let your children go to their much loved grandparents for Christmas. I am not a fan of Christmas either and I think for a lot of people it is a time for reflection and tinged with sadness as memories of loved ones either dead or distant come to mind.
Good, because they were not sad days. just quiet.. c
Too many people can’t stand to be alone, at Christmas or anytime, because they have never learned to be comfortable with the person they are when alone. I commend you for learning to like and be comfortable with yourself! A rare gift indeed. As for losing the Christmas spirit, I don’t think you have. You love and care for your family and friends for the right reasons, for them not yourself. And isn’t that what Christmas really is, thinking of someone else (your children with their grandparents, your friends with their families) above yourself and being ok with that. (Did that make sense? I hope you understand what I’m trying to say)
I do understand what you are saying ted and you know i never thought of it that way.. thank you.. c
Beautiful post, C… Years in retail sales long ago stripped all the Joy from the season for me, and I desperately want back that sense of wonder and peace that used to come with the holidays… I’m still searching for the Christmas Child I used to be. I get glimpses of her, but she’s still out of my reach. Perhaps now, with a grandchild about to lure her in, she’ll come close enough to touch…
I envy you your peace.
I am sure that grandbabby will bring the wide-eyed back to christmas.. you will be surprised when you see it happen through those baby eyes..or are they toddler eyes now?.. c
Until he can ‘toddle’ across the room on his own, he’s a baby….
and maybe a little longer. 😉
ah still a baby then, my baby is 24 so she tells me, we still call her The Baby.. c
I understand. What a beautiful way of expressing the complexities that many will be feeling in the coming weeks. Beautiful.
Sometimes just knowing that it is OK to be alone is enough.. thank you Bella.. c
Beautiful.
Thank you Nikkie. c
There is nothing remotely sad or unattractive *inherent* in solitude. We make it what it is for each of us. I actually crave the sort you describe, where all around is as it should be but doesn’t need to include me arbitrarily or perforce. And in some ways I feel that about holidays more than any other time. What I am feeling and getting from and infusing a holiday with is much more precious when it can be by choice and genuine and deeply felt.
As for Christmas, I have had all sorts of Christmases and Christmas celebrations, from one end of the spectrum to another, and most were perfectly fine and hold happy memories for me. But honestly, it never mattered to me when, where or how those events happened. I don’t care any more about what day(s) I celebrate my birthday than I would guess a [or The Supreme] deity would, least of all one whose natal day was designated by educated guess and decree. And despite the possible palm trees in the vicinity of Bethlehem, the likelihood that a supernova burst into view, the arrival of kings bearing rich tokens of homage–I can’t begin to *buy* into the gift-jammed, over-spangled, tree-chopping frenzy that is someone else’s idea of Christmas–again, any of those things can be beautiful and meaningful reminders of one’s worldview and the love shared with family and friends, but only if they come straight from the heart. My heart craves a quieter sort of celebration these days, and thankfully, after the rush of the holiday concert season and all that it will entail for my musician husband, that’s what I hope and expect to enjoy. Quietly, just the two of us, and without need for wrapping it up in tinsel.
You provided an eloquent reminder of what great value that has. True warmth and passion for the blessings of this life are best celebrated any day of the year–and in the ways we find most welcome. Thank you for the message, Celi.
Kathryn what a passionate and articulate response. You are a very clever woman, I love it when you write to me and when christmas does finally roll around and you collapse in a orchestral heap, sloshing your sparklie in its glass, I hope you have a lovely lovely day. But until then.. what has happened to the weather?, it is straight out COLD outside today!! c
One might think winter’s around the corner or something! 🙂
Hmmm, I am just trying to find the words…
So much of your post was so moving and touched my heart. Christmas is surely distorted in our culture, I’ve been on a mission to bring back the joy with baking and throwing bright objects about my home, spending extra time in meaningful conversation with friends at dreadful “Xmas Funktions”.
I think missing your children (for me anyway) is the biggest feeling of emptiness a parent can have. I am always so grateful that they are still here on my planet, happy and safe, wherever they may be. This isn’t always the case.
I share your love of alone time and stillness… crave it, seek it out whenever I can. I think writers are “thinkers” and need time to process the words that keep popping by, demanding to be put onto paper immediately, or else!! Not unlike artists with their paints and canvas…
Thank you Smidge, it is true about writers and artists needing to process. I love the idea of decorating a home, it is so old and so rewarding. Thankfully I have no Xmas Funktions to chat at, The prairie dwellers are a bit like gophers, you don’t see them much.. And I do hope that you are mucking about with paints and canvasses again. You definitely have an eye.. c
What a touching post Celi. As my son is rounding out his last year and a half at home, I am beginning to miss him already. How is that possible? That 18+ years will have gone by in a flash and his goofy toddler grin has disappeared. I am glad that you have a philosophical approach to Christmas and having good food and doing things you love certainly can make the day special. Glad you have John to share it with now. I can appreciate missing your kids though. I do believe that never will go away as I am getting closer to the “next phase”. Take care…
The next year and a half will be great, kids are more awesome the older they get. c
I don’t much like Christmas either. I KNOW! You can’t tell by looking at me. But that’s because my commitment to us is to make Christmas what I want it to be, and to give up the insanty of spending the day with a bunch of people that i really don’t have anything in common with.
What a wonderful strong stand. That is hard to do believe me. I am sure that Rumpy and co get lots of christmas love.. c
I love that stillness. That peace where time melts away without worry because everything that needs doing is done, and everyone who needs taking care of has all they need. Christmas has been a very stressful time for my family, for as long as I can remember. The production is very important to my Mum, even though wealth has eluded her by stark, painful spans for most of her life. So we respect her need for production, knowing she will struggle for months because of it. And then we do it all over again with my husband’s family, on the other side of that span, where we struggle with the weight of their showy generosity.
But for us at home? For that three or four hours on Christmas morning when it is just the four of us? We get excited about Santa, sit beside our Boy Scouts tree, give each other one or two precious things, linger over breakfast and enjoy that time when we don’t have to be anywhere, doing anything else. It’s not quite stillness, no. But there is some peace, there 🙂
That three or four hours are the best then, lovely to make that your tradition.. after all Peacefulness is not always quiet!! c
I think you are the opposite of the Grinch. You love your children so much and you are a kind person to share them with their father and his family on Christmas Day. I think that is the greatest gift of all. Having time to yourself to do as you please is also a blessing for any Mum! One day, when my kids are grown and gone, I see myself volunteering to serve meals to the elderly or homeless on Christmas Day. A way to spend time with those who may not have much time left.
That would be an ideal christmas for me too, serving food to the homeless, I never thought of doing that out here.. what a fantastic idea.. but you know i never considered NOT sharing my children with their father,, he is their father after all.. c
Celi, your blog is all about celebration, each and every day. Christmas day might be one of quiet meditation for you, but if ever there was anyone who keeps what we understand to be the Christmas spirit all year long, it’s you – rejoicing in and being grateful for every small treasure that each day brings! Thank you for sharing that with us. 🙂
Celia, what a wonderful thing to say.. thank you.. celi