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By Eloise TW: Abuse
Dear Diary, One of my favourite things to do at Christmas is watch people’s faces as they unwrap my presents and laugh as they try and work out what it is. As I always handmake my gifts, usually in the spirit of making something someone has never been gifted before, I really cherish the look on a person’s face when they tear off the wrapping and behold the item. This is why I very much enjoyed watching my secret Santa present unravelling. You see, I had Meadow, and she was struggling with the wrapping paper for so long, that when the reveal happened, and the handcrafted item slipped through the packaging, she looked more frustrated than anything. “Whoever had me for secret Santa needs to invest in some washi-tape,” she said, picking the object up off the table. “Okay Freda, what is it this time?” I leant over the table and nicked the button from the top, unravelling layers of tiny pockets slipped into one another, tiny items all stuffed inside it. Meadow dubiously flipped it over and shrugged. I gestured to the pockets. “Open them,” I responded. We all sat and watched her pull open the first little pocket and reveal a tube of her favourite blue raspberry bonbons. Meadow audibly squealed and ran over to me to give me a hug. I smiled and hugged her back. “This makes me feel so much worse about what I got for Hazel,” she said, and then gasped an ‘oops’ and Hazel chuckled, rolling her eyes. “I guess I’ll go next then,” she smiled, and she began carefully unwrapping the layers of paper (and I mean, layers) to reveal a very expensive looking pastel set. Hazel looked up at Meadow questioningly, “I thought the limit was five pounds this year?” Meadow gazed up with her mouth open. She said, “Huh, really? I could’ve sworn it was fifty?” “Fifty?” Ella squealed. “No?” Meadow asked. In receiving many blank looks, she grinned and shrugged, “Oh well, who’s next? Hazel, you had Ella, right?” “Meadow!” “Sorry, sorry! Look, I’ve kept it secret all this time, I did well not to crack sooner, okay,” she said. “You saw it on my present tag ten minutes ago Meadow, I’d hardly call that long, but yes, Ella, I do have you,” Hazel replied, handing the silver sparkly bag to Ella, who was practically bouncing with excitement. All eyes then fell on Ella, who painstakingly separated the tape and the paper, so much so that Hazel suggested she might go and buy the panini she wanted ten minutes prior whilst she did so. A couple of minutes beyond that statement, and then the agitated desire to do so, Ella got the item open and clapped her hands, flushing. “I love it so much Hazel!” she cried, and she hugged the large wooden shape to her chest. I asked her to swivel it around so we could all see, and she showed us this beautiful wooden nutcracker. We then spoke about how much Ella loves the nutcracker until Natalie leisurely sat down at the end of the table. “Hey guys, sorry I missed the bit before… I was just exchanging presents with Daisy,” she announced, putting both her hands on the table. She asked to look at what had been exchanged so far and joined in the laughter over Meadow’s forgetfulness. In the spirit of our activities, I addressed Natalie, saying, “What did you and Daisy get for one another then?” She pulled out a large bar of plain Dairy Milk from her schoolbag and replied that it was from Daisy. With a small frown, she added that she’d bought her a heart shaped locket. “Just a cheap tacky one,” she added, shrugging, although her eyes were watering a little. At this point, Natalie and Ella were yet to have given any gifts, so Ella handed hers to Natalie and Natalie to me. We watched Natalie open Ella’s intricately hand-crafted book on all of Natalie’s dream holiday destinations, wrapped in environmentally friendly paper (after my intervention). Natalie’s face lit up, and she excused herself, saying she had to run off to class. She told me to open mine when I got home and let her know if I liked it. So, I brought her present home with me, wrapped up and stuck together neatly as Natalie’s presents always are. As I tore through the wrapping paper, I could tell immediately what she’d given me, and I too felt a watering in my eyes. It was a pattern for a pair of dungarees with embroidery swirling up and down the legs, beside some thin corduroy fabric and a little embroidery set. Balanced on top was a branch wrapped in a small note. All it said was: 100% natural olive branch. Freda Dear Diary, The best part about Christmas this year is that I don’t have to have teachers breathing down my neck saying, ‘why haven’t you completed this assignment?’ and ‘why are you talking back?’ when I really am not talking back. I can just enjoy working my job and then going home to treat my mum to the best Christmas ever. Perhaps that is optimistic of me, but I really think this year could be the best one. Diary, you want to ask why, why is Meadow this excited about Christmas, especially when she knows it’s obviously the most expensive time of the year, but I will just remind you that I have in fact got a job, and I can afford to make everything perfect. That’s why I’m prepping Christmas lunch with my mum, in the knowledge that we can afford to have the turkey and the stuffing this year, and I can surprise her with a Christmas pudding for dessert, which we’ve never had before. We’re chopping the carrots and prepping the Brussel sprouts and the doorbell goes for the third time this morning, so I go to open the door. My mum got the first one, opening it onto a bunch of extremely excitable teenagers who were in the middle of running away. The second time was much of the same thing, so I volunteer now to save her the frustration. With the warm smell of the meat slowly cooking and the lightly flashing Christmas lights, I draw open the door to a person who is much to my surprise. “Hi,” they say, pulling their coat tighter and looking behind their shoulder, “let me in, yeah?” “Hi?” I volunteer. Daisy shoves into my doorway and beckons me to shut the door behind her. “Aren’t you going to shut that?” she says, and then she walks into my hallway, “Nice. Can I stay for dinner?” “What?” Daisy bites the edge of her nail and replies, agitated, “Yeah, I was going to go to Natalie’s but you’re pretty much a neighbour and well, I ran here so can I stay with you? Just for tonight, till it wears off.” I’m silent. It’s not until my mum calls through and asks who it is and if I would please come and help her, that I find my voice. “Yeah, coming, one sec,” I reply to my mum and drag Daisy into the front room, whispering, “What the hell are you on about, staying here? What’re you doing here? We’re not even friends Daisy. You’ve been horrible to literally all my friends, why the hell would I help you?” Daisy shifts from foot to foot. She won’t meet my eye. “Yeah, it’s like, no big deal, I just, please can I just stay with you?” Her jacket shifts, and I notice a black bruise forming on the side of her neck. She quickly pulls her coat back across herself. Then I register her face again and see the three lines of red and a smaller bruise under her eyebrow. It takes me a moment to understand what I can do to make this situation better, but in the brief split-second it takes me to register this, I nod. “You can stay here,” I sigh. But I add, “You better be nicer to my friends though. Understand?” Daisy looks at the ground. She nods and says, “I can do that.” So, Daisy, my mum and I spend Christmas looped around the tree, opening presents and sharing jokes. It isn’t quite the Christmas I had in mind, but in its own way, it’s perfect. Bye, Meadow Dear Diary, I gave Freda the olive branch. And then I came home and I lay in between the layers of my bed and sobbed. I cried thinking about the locket I’d picked out for Daisy five weeks ago. I cried over Ella’s thoughtful present, over how I’d treated her all term and how my parents were no longer speaking to each other. I cried about the drinking, and the pain and Matilda and my family and my mum and the tears kept flowing far into the evening, much beyond mum’s calling me down for dinner and her eventual going to bed. I lay there, flushed with the feelings that I’d so carefully buried. And I didn’t stop until I fell asleep, exhausted from it all. The next morning, I got up and painted my face, resolved my eye bags and left the house, walking to the park. I saw her, all dressed in a scarf and her pretty, brown boots. And I smiled. “Hey,” I said. “Hi,” she replied, “should we walk?” I nodded, and we walked along the path together, our breath misting in the layers of heavy fog. Our breaths intertwined, and the mist clouded our view. We both laughed, something neither of us had done in a long time. When we sat down, we were silent. I started. “I’ve been struggling,” I said, and I let my hands rest in my lap. A tear leaked from my eye. Ella was watching the water rippling, and she nodded. “I know,” she replied. She added, “Me too.” And we sat there, in the early hours of the morning, in the quiet of the morning runs, and the birdsong that adjoins it, both deep in thought. At one point, I felt a cold and delicate brush of skin, and I let my hand enclose hers. Dear Diary, Christmas is nothing short of fantastic in my household. We have the Christmas stockings above the fireplace, the big pine tree from the tree farm close to us, a dozen sweet treats and carol concerts all intermingled in the holiday cheer. And underscoring these festivities, is the delightful tune of screaming and crying. First, about the turkey and the fact that one of my brothers turned the oven off for fun so the turkey was raw still when the rest of the dinner was ready. Second, over my parents deciding to make the stuffing together. Which is enough said on the matter. Third, over my lack of enthusiasm for the make-up set my dad gifted me for Christmas, when I specifically asked for art supplies. Fourth, because my grandma forgot to show up for dinner and instead showed up at nine PM, causing both the boys to run downstairs and refuse to sleep for three more hours. Fifth, due to the heated conversation my parents had after the boys had finally gone down, and Grandma had safely been returned home. The conversation that they didn’t think I could hear but made me very aware of their relationship problems. So, while the Christmas tree with the pine smell, and the carol services spreading joy and cheer are enlightening in a festive façade, I find the holiday spirit really begins when everyone is asleep and I can draw a snowy picture online, photographed in a distant place, where I can imagine I am. If I close my eyes for long enough, I’m lying in the log cabin, amidst a fresh brush of snow, and my cheeks are glowing in the cold, trying to form a protective layer. And Christmas is just beautiful there. Love from, Hazel Dear Diary, I haven’t much time to write, as my eyes are drooping and I’m almost asleep, but besides all the wonderful presents my parents bought me, and the stocking full of gifts I unwrapped this morning, I had one moment today that I’m excessively thankful for. It was just after Christmas lunch. We were all sat round the dinner table pulling crackers and laughing at my nan’s jokes (which are terribly unfunny), when I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I excused myself to sit in the lounge, where I curled up on the sofa with a blanket and the newest addition to my book collection, and looked at my notifications. Behind me, the tree was glowing pale yellow, and the sweet smell of Christmas snacks and plastic tree particles scattered across the room. I smiled. On the group chat with all of us, the one we haven’t used properly for a while since Natalie became friends with Daisy, there were four messages saying, ‘Happy Christmas!’ from Meadow, Freda, Hazel and Natalie. Underneath the message chain, I too wrote: ‘Happy Christmas.’ Lots of love and hugs, Ella xxx
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By Ali For many people, the holiday season arrives with pressure to feel a certain way. There is a sense that joy should simply appear, that warmth should come easily, that everyone should feel grateful simply because the calendar says so. Decorations go up, music fills stores, and the world seems to agree that this is supposed to be the happiest time of the year.
But for some, Christmas is not loud or bright. It is quieter, heavier. It carries the weight of the year that came before it. There are memories attached to certain songs, traditions that have shifted or disappeared, and moments that feel different than they once did. The holidays do not erase what has been lost or what yet still has to find peace. Still, people show up; they wrap gifts. They cook meals. They gather at the dinner table where conversations feel fragile, but still worth having. Not because everything is okay, but because choosing gentleness feels important. In small ways, they choose it for others and for themselves. Gentleness during the holidays is often misunderstood. It is not about pretending things are perfect, or forcing cheer. It is about allowing moments of warmth to exist alongside reality. It is about speaking kindly when it would be easier to stay quiet, and finding comfort in simple things: the glow of Christmas lights at night and the feeling of being present, even when life is feeling complicated. As the season continues, it becomes clear that gentleness is not a weakness. It is a choice, one made in the middle of exhaustion, grief, change, and growth. For many, that choice is what makes the holidays bearable and sometimes, meaningful. So I’ll say this now, for anyone moving through the holidays carrying more than they show: You don’t have to make this season perfect. You don’t have to feel grateful every second. Let gentleness be enough. Rest when you can. Take comfort, even if it’s small. Be gentle with yourself and others - not because the world is kind, but because you are. Sometimes getting through the holidays isn’t about celebration. It’s about choosing not to close your heart - and letting that be enough. By Sydney When people think of the holidays, they tend to think of snow. Whether it be snowball fights, sledding, or sleigh rides, most people associate December holidays with the ground being covered in fluffy, white, snow. However I think of something a little different. For me, the holiday season means being able to go outside without the sun trying to fill me and cacti (not cactuses, don’t say cactuses unless you want to get laughed at) wearing Santa hats. I think of the holiday season differently because of where I live: Arizona, a state in the southwestern United States.
A lot of people forget that the US has desert biomes even though it actually has four of them. Arizona is home to at least a part of each of the four deserts (https://www.desertmuseum.org/books/nhsd_northamerica.php). Being a state that is mostly desert means it doesn’t get any snow, except in the northern area which gets a lot. Therefore, people living in Arizona have adapted winter traditions to fit our climate better. When decorating for Christmas, instead of putting Santa hats on snow people, we put them on cacti. Whereas some people in other states have electric reindeer, my neighbours have lit-up javelina, wild pigs that like to roam the neighbourhoods. Some years I do wish that we got snow. When I was little, my parents used to tell me that Arizona sent all of its snow to places that need it more. Now, I don’t want it to snow, I just want it to be cold. As climate change gets worse, it just keeps getting hotter and hotter here in what locals call the Valley of the Sun. So, instead of looking for snow as a signal that winter has begun, we look for a different sign: snow birds. Now, you may be thinking “how do birds tell you when it’s winter?”. Well that’s easy to answer: snow birds aren’t actual birds. “Snowbirds” is our term for retired people that live in Arizona in the winter and more northern states, such as … Wisconsin, Michigan, and Illinois in the summer. Therefore, when the license plates start changing to show more states like Minnesota, North Dakota, or even Canada, that’s how we know it is winter. This holiday season will probably look a lot different for everyone. As COVID-19 gets worse again here in the United States, holiday plans will have to be adjusted. Thankfully, I have a small family: just me, my parents, and their parents. We plan to sit as far away from each other as possible, but if cases get worse we may move Christmas to zoom. I know it may be hard to spend the holiday season on zoom, but it is the safest option. To help our doctors and hospitals, it is best for holiday plans to be put on hold. To accommodate this new way of celebrating, try playing some fun games on zoom. A lot of websites have been created to play card games or even board games online, making it possible to have fun with people that aren’t with you. Some streaming services are even creating platforms, such as Netflix Party, that let multiple people in different locations watch the same movie. Doing gatherings virtually may seem like we are back at the start of quarantine, but they are steps we need to take to help get the pandemic under control. If someone had told me that I might not be able to see my grandparents for Christmas, I probably would have thought they were lying. I am their only grandkid and my mom their only child so where else could they go. It will be hard not to see them, but to keep them safe I am willing to go a Christmas without them. On a happier note, this weekend we are putting out all of our Christmas decorations and I am excited to see the electric javelinas once again. |
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