Thus this moment, with this poetic lighting, and all that was brought forth because of it, has been added to the wealth of encircling memories that constantly enliven my relationship with my daughter, and we are once again enriched with hope.
I am so grateful that my daughter had brought me to this glorious creation of Christmas color and light. This is a moment we will never forget.
As we drove away, both a bit lighter, I said to my daughter, "What do you want to bet it’s a gay couple who lives there?"
Now, my good reader, take a moment and notice your reaction.
I guarantee you that I did not suggest this probability with so much as a kilowatt of negativity or detraction – nor was there anything in the comment that should take anything away from this holy experience.
If anything, there could be insight and, perhaps, a recognition of irony.
With these words, I am simply acknowledging a pattern, evidenced throughout history: Those whose masculine/feminine balance is less polarized, and whose creative energy is not completely invested in raising children, are often more able, perhaps even more driven, to focus on producing complex, inspired – even profound – Art, in a vast array of genres.
In my life’s travels, I have been very blessed with many gay friends and co-workers – friends who have been both compassionate and strong, communicative and productive, generous and creative, funny and soul-shaking, warm and determined – the best qualities you could ever want in a friend – especially when they aren’t concerned about being judged. These are friends for whom I am most grateful.
Such friends have also been great role models. At the age of 11, my daughter told me, after great consideration, who were the three friends of mine she most respected and loved. Two of the three were gay. All three rated so highly because of their forthright communication with her, their wit, their independence, their commitment to their dreams, and their own standards of excellence. Oh yes, and to an inherent kindness.
Her pronouncement was another bit of evidence that we’re on the right track.
We drive home. Traveling those three blocks, we hope to retain what we’ve just gained. Lately, life, at home, has been, well, not so easy. The tension my husband and I are feeling about finances has become pervasive and our fears darken too much of what we say and do, often spoiling moments of joy over the many positive aspects of our lives.
It is so saddening to continually miss that connection we used to be able to find.
There are no Christmas lights on our house. Though we have many, in boxes, and my husband used to do a great job of it, it’s been a few years now since he’s made the effort, despite my bringing home the new, even easier, blankets and wraps and icicle lights. And I’m too busy trying to take fit in my own ample Christmas responsibilities. Daddy has always been in charge of lighting, because he’s good at it. I believe it made him feel good, too – the challenge, and the accomplishment, and how happy it made me.
But the spark is dimmer now. There is, too often, grumbling. There is tension. There is blame. Because most of all, there is fear – of what’s ahead, of where this will take us, of separation.
It turns out we are living a statistic in the headlines. We are behind in the mortgage on the house we’ve been in for 17 years. The sad relief is that we are not alone. But if that is true, that means there are many family homes this Christmas where there is grumbling, tension, blame, and most definitely – fear.
This is a line that is drawn, for us, that I am grateful for. There is NO physical abuse. That is understood here. Other families, facing these conditions, and worse, are far less fortunate.
