LJ Idol Prompt 17 — Wabisabi

[flipflop_diva]

I was ten years old the first time my mom took me on what would become our annual December tradition — the Holiday Home Tour, complete with a fancy dessert after we finished.

You see, the city I grew up was divided into three sections. Not literal ones. There were no boundaries on any map. But they were there if you knew where to look. The entire middle strip was full of apartments and older, smaller homes. The ones where families lived paycheck to paycheck and didn’t always have extra money. When I was ten years old, I didn’t understand what that meant. But then, when I was ten, I saved up thirty-five dollars to buy myself a Cabbage Patch Kid and thought I was the richest person in the world.

The southern part of our city, where I lived, was full of single-family homes, most of them pretty good-sized, with multiples cars in driveways and full of parents who could take their kids on nice vacations. At ten years old, I didn’t really appreciate how good I had it, how lucky we were, partly because my dad liked to tell us — every single time we asked to buy something — that we were broke and had no money, and also partly because almost all my friends lived in the same part of the city so I didn’t know any different.

I did know, though, that the north part of our city was where the rich people lived. And I do mean rich. Houses that were more mansions than anything. Sparkling pools with diving boards and waterfalls. Guest houses that were bigger than some apartments. Brand new Mercedes and Ferraris in driveways. Houses that had east and west wings and multiple staircases and eight bedrooms.

Houses that went all out for the holidays. Covered in outside lights. Fifteen-feet tall Christmas trees. Candles and Santas and snowmen. Stockings and ornaments. Everything decorated and shining and beautiful.

And once a year, six of these incredible houses would open their doors for the Holiday Home Tour, letting people walk through them while wearing little blue booties over their shoes, all for the price of a donation to charity.

My mom had been going for as long as I could remember, and when she took me the year I turned ten, I was thrilled.

I remember walking through the doors of some of these houses, looking up at their spiral staircases and their immaculately decorated trees that skimmed the ceilings in the entryway with the piles and piles of perfectly wrapped presents at the bottom. I remember seeing kitchens that were bigger than our whole house, and pools that sparkled in the twinkling lights. I saw replicas of Santa’s sleigh that filled half the yard, and a collection of elfs that were too many to count. And I remember thinking that one day, I was going to decorate my house just like this.

Or if not just like that, at least it would be beautiful. The way my mom made our house. She would wrap garland around the staircase and bring out the candles. Hang crystal ornaments above the sliding glass door and hang the stockings she had lovingly sewn our names on from the mantle above the fireplace.

Even my dad got into it. Yes, he complained every year that he hated putting up the Christmas lights, but sure enough he would be outside for hours creating his masterpiece and then proudly showing it off to us and the neighbors.

And then I got older and moved away. Got my own little apartment a couple hours from my parents. The first year they brought me an artificial tree and helped me decorate it. The next year I pulled out the tree to do it on my own, but somehow the branches wouldn’t fluff up in just the right way. One of the ornaments fell and Santa’s arm fell off. The cat used my wooden Christmas tree that sat next to the artificial one as a scratching post.

Things did not improve when I bought my first house. The strands of lights didn’t want to stay in place. The little tree that filled my apartment was a little too small for my new living room. I lost the tree blanket in the move and had to use an old towel.

The next year the artificial tree died. The lights stopped working. I bribed my brother-in-law with a case of beer to help me get a real one. He helped me set it up. The dog thought the bowl of water for the tree was her personal drinking stash. The poor tree did not last as long as it should have.

Now, I have a bigger house. And a husband and kids. And a different dog. But, somehow, my life still does not resemble the ones I glimpsed on the Holiday Home Tour with my mom.

The (much bigger) artificial tree is still packed in a box in the garage. So are the lights. The presents that have actually been ordered are still in their Amazon boxes piled high in the hallway. The stockings are probably somewhere in the hall closet. We got a Christmas card in the mail today, but heck if I know where the card holder is.

The dining room table still has the ceramic pumpkin from Halloween as the centerpiece. Ellie’s birthday presents (from mid-November) are still not put away. Last year’s holiday outfits are still in the backs of closets.

Maybe everything will be done before Christmas. We are hosting this year. But it probably won’t be. There will probably be toys that aren’t put away, decorations that aren’t put up, ornaments that don’t make it on the tree.

But there will be smiles and there will be laughs and there will hopefully be screams of joy from the kids. There already are every morning when they run downstairs to find where Harry the Elf moved to during the night.

It’s nowhere near the perfect home that ten-year-old me envisioned. It’s messy and undone and more imperfect than anything, at least when it comes to the outside.

But it’s our life. Mine and the kids’ and the husband’s and the dog’s. And for the time being, it’s perfect enough.

And that is the best I can hope for.




Non-Fiction



This was written for therealljidol. If you liked my entry, please consider voting for me! You should also go read the other amazing entries. You can find them here. Voting should be up Friday!

Comments

[inkstainedfingertips]

Joy, smiles, and laughter. It sounds like a good home to me. Thanks for sharing a look into your world. Enjoyable read.

[erulissedances]

It always comes back to this foundation: family is the holiday spirit personified. Well done.

- Erulisse (one L)

[mollywheezy]

I loved this! I too have embraced the imperfections of my life. :)

[swirlsofpurple]

Thank you for sharing. Joy is definitely the important thing. I've never heard of holiday home tours and it was intriguing to hear this description of them.

[xeena]

It sounds pretty perfect to me! 💕 and I love that your Mom used to take you on that tour. Those are such great memories to have of her!