December 1974

The Saturday morning light would peek through the slits of the drawn curtains. My eyes would open and I’d slide out of bed. My nightgown would fall from its twisted position around my mid section down to my ankles and I headed for the main living area of our little trailer. My cat, Scamp, followed, tail high, swishing gently.

My mom was still asleep in the bedroom down at the very end of the hall. So I had to grab the little step stool from the closet in the kitchen and take one step up to reach the cupboard that housed my Kellogg’s Frosted Flakes. Grab a bowl and a spoon, fill the bowl with Tony the Tiger’s yummy goodness and carry it to the living room.

I set my bowl of Frosted Flakes down on our coffee table and looked out through the front bay windows of our trailer. I could see that fresh snow had fallen overnight and I was excited for the up coming days. Our Christmas Vacation was just beginning. 

I knelt down in front of the Big TV and turned it on hearing the hum of the components firing up inside of it. Turned the knob at the top to point to UHF and then turned the bottom knob to read 56. Channel 56. That was the station that had all the awesome morning cartoons.

It wasn’t quite time for my favourite show. What loaded on the screen in front of me was the Test Pattern and music. The song that always aired with the Test Pattern was “City of New Orleans” by Arlo Guthrie. When the song finished the Test Pattern would disappear and the fun would begin.

I pulled the cushions off the sectional couch we had and plop them on the floor in front of the TV, grabbed my cereal and sat down. I would position myself just so the floor heating vent was under my bent knees. When the heat would kick on and the warm air rose up through the vents, it would make my nightgown puff up like a balloon. The warmth was nice! 

The Bugs Bunny Roadrunner Show was my favourite. I think it only aired for an hour but that hour felt like 3. It was my goal in life to meet Bugs Bunny. I just loved him. I was 9.

During the course of that one hour I would have consumed another bowl of cereal. I didn’t have a care in the world and what I wanted to do next was at my discretion. I had no plans for the day. Would I call my friend Wendy? Maybe sled down the hill in my back yard. Who knew? Maybe I would colour, or watch more tv. 

I decided to check out the new fallen snow. Bundled myself up in my One-Piece snowsuit, boots and mittens and went outside. The little tiny shed off to the side of the patio held my plastic sled, so I dug that out. The hill in our backyard was the hill that all the Trailer park kids would come to. We didn’t mind, we didn’t care. We didn’t yell at them to get off our property. It was steep. Or at least it appeared that way when you’re little, but it was fun. One winter my mother’s friend had created like a snow slide that twisted and turned down the hill. The kids in the neighbourhood flocked to our back yard that year.

Left: Trailer we lived in • Right: My mom and I on a sled

When I reached the back of our yard and peered down the little steep hill, I could see the other street below. That street was still part of our Trailer Park and that street was where my best friend, Wendy, resided. I could see her walking across it with her sled in tow. Her brother running behind to catch up. I would hop on my sled and slide down to greet them.

Later, after my mom had been awake for a while, we’d pack up the car and head to my Aunt’s house. My mother would drop me off there and I’d spend the weekend with my cousin’s. I was closer in age to my oldest cousin, she was 3 years older than me, but I felt more connected to my younger cousin who was 5 years younger. I guess you could say I took care of her. I would play with her and her friends. I would take her to the Library and we’d read books in the big round oval chairs in the play area. We’d pretend we were mystery solvers. It was fun. Lunches were of grilled cheese sandwiches and sweet bread-and-butter pickles.

These are the types of days I remember. I can’t recall exactly how I felt. I guess the best word to use would be content. Not a care in the world, no decisions to make other than what game do we play next. I miss those days. 

December 2020

I woke up to the alarm clock singing at 8am. I reached to shut it off and rolled back over. I slept another hour and only got up when I heard my dog whining to go out. My work schedule on this rotation is the late shift, or to some it’s called Second Shift. I work 2pm to 10:30pm, but today I have an appointment with my doctor. Let’s just say I’ve had a lot of appointments with my doctor. 

Age is getting the better of me. My job is getting the better of me. The year 2020 is getting the better of me. My mom… My mother is suffering from Dementia and I am struggling to keep it together. My body doesn’t want to cooperate much either. I can barely walk to the mailbox without creaking knees or lower back pain. Migraines take over when I become stressed and tears can fall at the simplest of sad thoughts that may or may not be related to my life. One just rolled down my cheek now as I write this.

My last visit with my mother – Jan. 2019

To paint a quick picture: I moved to Australia nearly 13 years ago. This is my home now and I have become an Australian Citizen. I’m newly married with a house and fur babies for kids. I also work from home for the past 5 years. My mother still lives in the U.S. but is in a Health facility. Her Dementia has progressed and she is confused on a daily basis. The hard part about this is that I don’t see or talk to her on a daily basis. I talk to her maybe once a week if I can. She has lost touch with how to work technology and can only manage the basics of clicking the Green Square with the white camera on it. This calls me on FaceTime. Sometimes I can answer, but most times I can’t. She’s either calling in the middle of the night or during my work hours. With 2020 being the trash year that it’s been, Covid-19 kicking everyone’s asses, I cannot visit her. I’m fearing that phone call saying that her disease has gotten the better of her. 

So, with the stress of my job and the stress and guilt of my mother with not having her here with me (we tried) I’ve fallen into a depression, experience anxiety, chest pains from said anxiety, and migraines. The migraines come about once a week and can last two days. 

Here we are in December, again. Christmas is said to be the most depressing holiday for a lot of people. I think I can understand why. Old Christmas music triggers my childhood. Old Christmas shows like Rudolph trigger those childhood memories and I long to feel that warmth again, the content feelings. Winter activities and fun but as we start to get older we lose the “childhood” dreams and face the adult life of reality. Christmas starts to become more of a chore.

Life, as an adult, is hard. It’s complicated, it’s stressful, painful, and heartbreaking. How I long to be that 9 year old girl again.