Saturday morning, Léonie, my mother, hops on the bus around the corner from our house. She goes shopping. Buy Christmas gifts. Because Santa Claus is her. She doesn’t tell us, but we suspect it. His list is long.
Not only does she buy all the presents for my brother, my sister, my father and me, but she also buys the presents that we give to each other. She even buys the present that my father gives her. Not to mention all that goes into Christmas stockings. And offerings for our aunts and close friends. Since the beginning of December, she has been spending her Thursday evenings, Friday evenings and Saturdays browsing the shops on rue Sainte-Catherine. To seek what will please each of us. Braving the cold outside and the heating inside. Shopping is exhausting. Spending, surprisingly, can be more tiring than thinking.
It’s almost 10 p.m., Mom just arrived. Arms laden with well-filled bags, which she hastens to hide in her room. We pretend we haven’t seen anything.
One day, while we’re at school, she packs everything. Damn, there’s no paper! She runs to buy some. Place the decorations: the casseroles on the front door, the nativity scene on the edge of the window, the nutcracker on the hearth. Try to convince my father to go get the tree. The years when Dad was too much of a Scrooge, Léonie carried him alone, on foot. But he is smaller. There are still limits!
Then we garnish the Christmas tree as a family. In family, it is quickly said. Children hang the first balls, but hanging ice cubes one by one is a long time. We get tired. So it’s my mother who does it, with my father who puts the star at the very top because he’s the only one tall enough.
PHOTO PROVIDED BY THE AUTHOR
My mother, my father and my big brother Bertrand, who was not yet big
Already on the 23rd, she rushes to rue Monkland to buy food. Because food is needed. We receive 24, 25 and 1erit’s just the 31st that we are received at Tantôt and Marie-Laure.
My mother starts cooking. She cooks everything. As per usual. Except that at Christmas, she makes more than usual, and especially more dishes fancy than usual.
Once Christmas Eve is over, the gifts given, we go to bed overworked. While we sleep in, Léonie gets up to prepare Christmas dinner, then while we are going to digest it, she will prepare Christmas supper. In short, for a month, my mother does not stop. She is both Santa Claus, Mrs. Claus, the elves and the reindeer.
Christmas is her. I owe him all the Christmases of my childhood. Without her, we would never have arrived at Christmas at the same time as everyone else.
I also owe them to my father, of course. In part. Because my father has always contributed. His contribution as a father at that time. Shoveling the steps for the visit, climbing the wood to heat the hearth, washing the dishes, picking up. And pay presents and feasts. It’s not nothing. (It should be noted that the money he earned by working was largely thanks to his wife, who took care of the house and the children. In short, both contributed.)
The older we got, the more my sister, my brother and I helped. Especially my sister, to be honest. Another question of time, we must believe.
PHOTO PROVIDED BY THE AUTHOR
My mother and my big sister Dodo
This morning, I wanted to say thank you to my mom and to pay tribute to all the mothers who have designed, produced and carried out all the Christmases of Quebec families, for several centuries. Without them, the brightest memories of our youth would be extinguished.
The times have changed. Today’s mothers do not wear the holiday season at arm’s length. Men are more involved. But I have the strong impression that it is still the women who do the most to make the celebrations happen. That they are the soul. So thanks to them too!
In our family, this will be our fifth Christmas without our mother. Long before he left, all the family members had taken over to welcome each other.
But beyond all that she did for us during the Christmases of yesteryear, it was her presence that mattered most. She was the meaning of the party. We all revolved around her. Like everything revolves around the brightest star.
Christmas is my mother. And it always will be.
We will be bored. Even more.
Fortunately, life is such that during the parties Holidays, it is the grandchildren who take the place of the grandparents. It’s all about them now.
And it will turn a medium time! Because my brother Bertrand returned with four grandchildren named Édouard, Simone, Gisèle and… Léonie!
Happy Holidays to all of you!