It is long.. but well worth it..
Dawn Tawwater
Assignment # 2
I never thought I would write about that first Christmas. After all, it didn’t seem like much to celebrate. Being a seventeen year old in public housing with a baby doesn’t exactly inspire feelings of optimism and yuletide joy. Strangely as it turned out, that first Christmas was unconventional and also remarkable. I may have been one of the few to experience what Hallmark cards work so hard to convey – a real touch of Christmas spirit.
About four days before Christmas day is when I remember it starting. I had been working for the Frisco Police Department for several months, a job that I was proud of - after all - police were decent. If I worked for them maybe that decency would rub off on me and get rid of some of the shame I was meant to feel for being a teenage mother and a high school drop out. Maybe my family would call and say they were sorry for their neglect and abandonment, maybe I would meet and marry a cop who would intimidate others who wanted to hurt me, who would defend my honor and fight my battles. Maybe, maybe, maybe…
It was a Wednesday afternoon. I had the day off from both my job at the police department and part time work at the local Dairy Queen. It was a beautiful day, mild and sunny outside. The expansive fields in the plains of North Texas were giving way to a slow approaching winter. The tall grass was brown, sharp and crunched under my feet. I set out in my car that morning with a mindset to get a Christmas tree. I knew I couldn’t buy one – there was no money for that. The fields would be my only option, scattered with the occasional pine, I convinced myself that I could find a small pine, saw it down myself and whoola! A Christmas in spite of it all!
I ran on a lot of fear and anger. A rebellious spirit born of more than I understand, I was intent in this situation and all others to prove to others that alone in the world I would not fail – I’d show them all. I began with a simple request earlier that day. I was going to need a saw. My landlords were an older couple hired by HUD to manage the small 75 unit complex. Mr. and Mrs. Sheppard were very stern individuals. Both strikingly tall and thin, they exuded a surety that was curious to me. She managed the rents, took in request and dealt with the business side of the complex; he was in charge of maintenance. After dressing Brittney and putting her in her baby carrier, I made my way to their apartment two buildings over. Mr. Sheppard was outside as I approached he looked up and said “What’d ya need”? I had never asked him for anything that wasn’t related to the apartment, I was scared. “I was wondering if I could borrow a saw?”
“What do you need a saw for” he replied.
“Umm well... I can’t afford a Christmas tree for my little girl. But I have popcorn I can string and I thought I’d make some paper ornaments! With a saw I thought maybe I could find and cut my own tree.” He continued to work as I talked never changing his flat facial expression. When I finished he looked up at me slowly and turned to his right side and picked up a bow saw sitting by the porch. “Will this work?”
“I think so!” I said as I reached for it. “I’ll bring it back in about an hour. Thanks!” Feeling optimistic about my plan I picked up the carrier with Brittney who was quietly and patiently observing it all.
After setting out I was still surprised when did find a tree, several in fact, but only one where I thought the complexities of distance from the road, fences and the like could be managed. It was just off a country road about 50 feet from the roadway. I slowly maneuvered the downward slope of the field with the carrier in one arm and the saw in the other. Stepping carefully I set Brittney’s carrier in the grass ten feet from the base of the tree and I went to work. The sawing was easy, the smell of fresh cut wood was intoxicating and my independent spirit was smiling brightly. By the time I cut it down and drove back to the apartment more than an hour had gone by. Mr. Sheppard was no longer outside. I took Brittney from the car and went directly to the landlords. I knocked and Mr. Sheppard appeared.
“Here’s your saw” I said. “Thanks”.
“Did you find a tree?” He asked
“Yeah, I said. It’s more round than pointy shaped, but it sure does smell good. I hate to bother you again, but you wouldn’t happen to have two small pieces of wood? I wanted to make a cross thingy so it would stand – you know like the trees are on at the place that they sale them?”
“Hold on” he said. Then he handed me a couple of pieces of wood from the side of the house that looked like it might do. I thanked him and headed back to my apartment with the wood.
Eventually I did get the tree standing and placed it in a corner of my small one bedroom apartment. The walls of the living room plain and the round unshaped tree was a sharp contrast to their flat mono-toned starkness.
The next day I entered the police department for my 8am to 4pm shift, the small town Chief met me at the door as I walked in. “Dawn” he said, “Looks like we’ve lost Lisa for the next two days – she’s out ill. Do you want to pull a double today and tomorrow?”
I was thrilled. The extra money would really come in handy – maybe I could even afford a gift or two for Britt for Christmas! I checked with the babysitter and after getting the okay from her I agreed.
The shift I worked for the next two days was 8am to Midnight it would end on Christmas Eve. It gave me very little time to think and no time to spend with Brittney. When I picked her up just after midnight she was asleep, when I dropped her off in the morning she had just woken up. Very little time was available to pursue any possible Christmas plans, no time to string popcorn, not time to make ornaments, no time to find gifts. The first night I would come in late and exhausted to see my little tree standing silently in the dark living room.
On Christmas Eve we had a particularly busy day at the police department. What they say about families and fights, drinking and general discontent must be true, because holidays always seem to create a spike in our calls. After the long day, I picked up Brittney from the sitter at 12:15 am Christmas morning and made my way the mile and half distance to my apartment. Huddled against me, balancing a bad, a purse and a baby I took my keys and put them in the lock. As I pushed open the door I was immediately struck with the sense that something was wrong. Something was different.
As I looked through the open door to the room I was so familiar with, my eyes were quickly drawn to the distinct colored lights coming from the corner of the room. My round, wild tree had been carefully decorated from top to bottom with lights, ornaments, even a star on the top. I stood there, holding a bundled up baby – unable to move – unable to think. How did this happen? Who did this? Why would they do this for me?
Finally after several minutes I shut the door, walking numbly to the couch – my young daughter still in my arms, sound asleep on my shoulder. I sat there in shock – in disbelief and then I began to cry. Even the tears were confusing to me, because I trapped in some strange land between fear and gratitude. On one had – how beautiful! How fucking beautiful! On the other hand – Who has been in my apartment? How did they access it? Do I need to be afraid? As I looked closer at this mirage, this magical transformation I also saw presents, several small gifts all with my daughters name had been placed under the tree. My gift was everywhere, in every light, in every ornament.
This confusion would persist over the next 24 hours, but eventually I would make my way to my landlord’s house – the only other individual I could think of with a key. I knocked lightly on the door and Mrs. Sheppard opened it.
“I’m sorry to bother you mam, but were you in my apartment? Do you know who decorated my tree?” Just then Mr. Sheppard walked up behind her. Mr. Sheppard said, “We did it”, but before he could finish his next thought Mrs. Sheppard said sternly “Mr. Sheppard borrowed those things from our decorations and from a few other residents here – when Christmas is over you’ll need to return them” and she shut the door.
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