On a snowy November day, my daughter Kit and I were dividing four boxes of tree ornaments between us. Kit, now living on her own, wanted to set up her own Christmas tree. Unpacking the ornaments brought back years of loss and sorrow for children who were no longer around during the holidays.
Over eight years, our family grew and shrank with 23 foster children. Most placements were temporary, and during that time, our two children also became part of our family through adoption. I was surprised to find out that Kit remembered the stories behind each handmade ornament, even from makers she had never met. It was astonishing to realize that her holiday memories differed from mine.
As I uncovered a tree topper from a box, memories of my first Christmas with my husband flooded back. The iridescent angel, held together by Krazy Glue due to a crack, symbolized our failed marriage. Passing it to Kit, I wondered if she would want it in its fragile state. Her eyes sparkled under her festive reindeer hat as she eagerly accepted it.
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 she proudly took on the responsibility. Another ornament, a Santa sleigh and reindeer crafted by an eight-year-old boy we once fostered, evoked a mix of emotions in me. The social system’s decision to separate him from us left lingering grief and frustration.
Feeling the shift in my mood, Kit took the Santa decoration from me. She reminisced about how I always placed it low on the tree so she could play with it, admiring the flames at the back of the sleigh. Like our foster children, Kit preferred watching movies at home during the holidays.
Creating inclusive Christmas celebrations for our foster children was a priority for our family. We adjusted our Christmas dinners to ensure they could spend time with their families on the special days. Establishing a tradition of gifting unique ornaments to each child allowed them to have a piece of our home with them, even after leaving our care.
Unpacking more ornaments, I found a reindeer ornament made of pompoms, a whimsical creation by my son. Remembering the division of ornaments during my divorce, I marveled at how my children found comfort in these decorations despite the changes in our family structure.
As Kit held the Rudolph ornament, she shared how it always brought her joy, regardless of where she spent Christmas. Her insight into the ornaments and their significance revealed a depth of understanding that surprised me. Decorating the tree this year will be a new experience, guided by Kit’s positive perspective that promises to overshadow any lingering sadness attached to the ornaments. I eagerly look forward to seeing her tree this holiday season.