Oh Christmas!
Christmas is not hard because I need or want things; it’s hard
because I have such a mix feeling about it. Growing up with 22 cousins was
amazing. I loved Christmas as a kid because I always awaited the arrival of all
my cousins at my grandmother home. There were several groups of cousins. See in
every family there is a “Tele novela “or what Americans call a soap opera. The dynamic
of my family was simple because every family was defined and I guess that’s the
same for everyone around the world. My
mother had 6 siblings and she was the 3rd oldest. There were 5 girls
and two boys. For purposes of protection I will only use their first letter of
their name.
L was the oldest and had 3 boys. Two of her boys were a few
years older than me. This was the all American family. They played sports, had
the best of everything and were born in the US. They even had soda, and if you
were a kid in the90’s that was huge.
A was the second oldest and had 4 boys. They were also pretty cool and had top of the
line everything. Except these cousins were a bit different because they were mix
of Mexican and Pilipino, not a bad thing but it was different.
G was the fourth oldest and her kids were brats. I hate to
say it because we are all brats as kids but this was above and beyond. There were
two girls and two boys. These kids were the ones that had to have what they
wanted, when they wanted and they got it. Other than fast food they did not eat
regular food.
B was the fifth one in the family and she had two girls and
two boys. They were the perfect family. Her husband worked and she was a stay
home mom. The girls were not allowed to play with boys and were never to settle
for less. Name brands were a big deal and the girls were made to be wives
someday. The boys were brats but for the most part I was closest to them. I
always admired their mother she always seemed so calm and collected like
nothing could face her. My grandmother
would go upside down for these kids.
Then there was M, what can I say about him. He was the
second youngest and a total jerk. If there was ever someone I really disliked so
much in my life he would be at the top of the list. He had kids later in his
life. He lived with my grandmother until he got married and even after. He had
two girls and a boy plus two step girls. His oldest I love dearly, probably because
I took care of her.
Last was the youngest N who is closest in age with me. She was who I wanted to be like until she got
pregnant at 18. Not that having kids at that age is bad I just imagined her
being the one to travel and go to school. Instead she settled and had 3 more
kids. She had one girl and three boys. They were my grandmother’s favorite.
Then there was us I was the 3rd oldest of the
cousins and I have 3 brothers on my mom side and 3 siblings on my dad’s but
they were not around. We were the
outcasts. Our mother was what people call the wild child. My brother was a
little trouble maker and the two youngest were dealt with the pressure to
fallow him. I was the one who tried to keep us together. Every uncle or aunt
had something to say about us. “There mom is crazy” “something is always going
on” “oh Charlie” “when will she get it together”
“they will all just end up like her” and this went on for years and years. Most
of my life I ignored comments. But every Christmas the comments would slap more
and more on the face. As I began to grow and understand what they meant I began
to resent them.
Every Christmas I could not wait to see my cousins but I
dreaded the fact that my mother would most likely disappear, and I would hear
the comments. On top of that everyone’s gifts would remind us that we would not
get anything from her. Lastly, I would learn that I am the most stubborn and
proud girl ever. I was in 3rd grade when I learned that I would
never except a gift from anyone because they felt sorry for me or obligated. It
started Christmas day that year when our mother was MIA and my grandmother gave
my uncle money to buy us a gift at Walgreens the only store open on Christmas
day. He came back with this little black bubble boom box. It was the size of an
orange. It was like sitting in a room with tape over your mouth listening to
all the bad things you could hear about your mother. So I did what any 3rd
grader would do I gave it back. Of course I was reprimanded and I had to take it;
but man oh man I was mad.
After a while I did not care anymore about who or what they
gave me. Instead I focused in trying to make my brothers happy. As soon as they
moved in with me I began to make sure they would have almost everything they
wanted. I would wrap everything for them even socks. That’s when Christmas
became fun and good for me. I have never been one to ask for anything except
for happiness and if you know me you know I love to make people happy. The way
people smile and glow when they receive something even a flower or a smile
makes me happy. Living in CT is bitter sweet. I miss my brothers, cousins and
friends. I do not miss the drama. There are times I feel lonely but then again
there are people that always surprise me and make me happy. In the end I
learned that you make your own happiness and sometimes your family is those who
put a smile on your face not always the ones you are born with.
PS. I did not turn out like my mother or father. I am myself, I am Karla.
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