On a snowy November day, my daughter Kit and I were organizing four boxes of Christmas tree ornaments, each of us claiming a share. Kit, now living on her own, was eager to decorate her own tree. Unpacking the ornaments brought back memories of loss and grief for me, as they symbolized the absence of children no longer with us during the holidays.
Over eight years, our family grew and shrank with the arrival and departure of 23 foster children. While most stays were temporary, our two children were eventually adopted. I was surprised to discover that Kit remembered the stories behind each homemade ornament, even from makers she had never met. It was eye-opening to realize that her holiday recollections differed from mine.
As I unpacked, I came across a tree topper given to my husband and me during our first Christmas together as newlyweds. Running my fingers along the crack in the iridescent angel, held together by Krazy Glue, reminded me of the strain in our marriage. Passing it to Kit, unsure if she would want it in its fragile state, her face lit up beneath a festive reindeer hat.
Recalling how she always wanted to be the one to place the angel atop the tree, Kit joked about never being tall enough before. We shared a laugh, and it was decided that the angel would go with her. Opening another tin, I found a Santa sleigh and reindeer ornament crafted by an eight-year-old boy we fostered, stirring up mixed emotions of grief and regret.
Sensing my shift in mood, Kit took the Santa decoration from me, reminiscing about how I used to place it low on the tree so she could play with it. She admired the flames at the back of the sleigh, reminiscent of a movie scene. Our foster children, like Kit, preferred watching “National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation” on Christmas Eve over attending church in the city.
Creating inclusive holiday traditions for our foster children was a priority for my former husband, our parents, and me. We adjusted our Christmas dinner dates to allow the children to spend time with their families on Christmas and Boxing Day. We started a tradition of buying each child unique ornaments to keep as a memento, allowing them to take it with them when they left or leave it with us to remember them by.
Uncovering a reindeer ornament made of pompoms and quirky decorations, I remembered my son’s nickname for it. Dividing Christmas decorations during a past separation, I recalled ensuring fairness in sharing ornaments among our children. Kit’s reflection on the enduring presence of Rudolph on the tree despite life changes resonated deeply with me.
This year’s tree decorating holds a different promise for me, with Kit’s joyful perspective overshadowing any lingering sadness attached to the ornaments. I eagerly anticipate seeing her decorated tree, brimming with her unique narrative.
