Holidays With The Downings

Chapter 24

Holidays With The Downing’s

 

Thanksgiving was six weeks away and I was already worried about it. I hadn’t seen Jeff since my last home visit which seemed like months when really had been 3 possibly 4 weeks. I knew what was coming and I was dreading it. For there has never been a time the State over looks mandatory holiday visits and as many times I had prayed in the past that for once they would forget about me; it always took place. It didn’t change the fact that every year I could remember I had no choice, but to spend every year with my parents always coming back with more bruises then the ones I had left with. Yet this year I had two people in my corner and that’s all I needed and perhaps a little praying couldn’t hurt, even though it seemed that God will always remain silent.

As the day got closer; the more worried I had become. Yet there was no sign either from my parents or the State to inform me that I would be spending the holidays with them. Until grandma showed up carrying a huge package wrapped with birthday wrapping. I knew my birthday which is Dec 1st which was almost two weeks away. I also knew she was the only one in my family that celebrated it and my brother Aaron's of course. And my foster families if they were good ones would.

My parents have never celebrated the occasion and neither have my other relatives. Instead of presents; my brother and I would receive extra chores for the month instead. That is if I was unlucky enough to live at home at the time, or I would like to say I was between foster homes at the time. For I have never lived at home more than a few months at a time. But when it came to my sister’s birthdays they always went all out with a huge party and lots of presents.

Aaron and I have changed that tradition the second he moved in with me and we still do it today. We would celebrate by taking us out to dinner and a movie, and if there was a present in our price range then that would be our present. Not once did or parents nor our sisters send us a present by mail, not even so much as a card. Nor did they ask about our well being as if we never existed at all. On a personal note; I really didn’t care if they ever contacted me ever again, even more so after my mother died.

Grandma set down the present on Pa’s new coffee table taking a seat on the coach wiping a brow and fixing her hair; trying to get her seconded wind. Everyone eyeing the present that was begging to be opened; Grandma laughed told me. “She would normally have waited until Thanksgiving. But what was inside couldn’t wait that long;” pausing long enough before dropping the bomb that I would be spending the holidays with the Downing’s. Hoping to avoid an incident with my parent’s altogether. I was speechless of course as Pa raised an eyebrow regarding the word “incident” knowing somehow me and Pa were going to have another nice long chat.

Grandma waved the question away for now as our eyes turned to the package that was making a chewing noise. My eyes lit up as I quickly unwrapped my present finding a new hamster chewing on a used roll of toilet paper and stuffing its cheeks as it ran back to its nest in the corner. Grandma said for a little guy he sure makes a lot of noise. I quickly gave grandma a hug and several kisses, before I turned my attention back to the cage. 

Ma frowned as she watched me open the cage which was fish tank aquarium with a screen lid to keep my pet nice and safe inside. I learned a lesson regarding cages for hamsters. Never get them a metal cage with bars if you want any peace and quiet. Trust me on this or you will be sorry.

I couldn’t wait to hold him as I picked him up and petted his soft fur and quickly discovered it was a girl, not a boy, having the same color pigmentation's of my last hamster brown and white spots of the shade of buttercups in the spring. Whom my sister Susan killed returning after being sold to drug addicts, proving to me and my grandmother that they were in charge of not her or the State. Basically stating they can do what they like and when without consequences. 

The image of it still fresh in my mind as I whispered she will never get a chance to do it again. My hamster was a squirmy little fella or should I say felly; as I asked Ma if she would like to hold it. Ma declined of course as everyone laughed watching as each of my brothers and sisters each take turns petting her on the head before I returned her to her cage.

Grandma to declined and said she preferred the hamster in its cage not staring back with its little beady eyes.  No matter how much coxing she refused, as I tried to tell her they are the gentlest creatures as far as a mouse was concerned, but she was taking no chances. A mouse in a cage is one thing, but there was no way come hell and high water was she about to hold or pet the creature.

I was also given the necessities, like food and bag of fresh cedar chips. Least not forget a new ball so the hamster can travel around the house without getting into trouble. Ma didn’t like the idea of that in the least saying only in my room with the door closed. Pa gave grandma a tour of the new house as I quickly took my new pet to my room; Ma yelling to make sure I washed my hands after holding my so called fury little friend. I named her Buttercup the second as her fur was the same color as my other hamster, the name fit.

Over the years I have raised several hamsters, and several field mice, but as of today 24 years later I haven’t had the heart of owning one anymore. Even though I have consider it a time or two or thought about buying a bird. Yet as I have gotten older, I have stayed with having three dogs to keep me company and afraid to own anything that I would have to leave behind that no one besides me would want.

With the chance that my relatives would convince Don to kick me out on to the street or by chance he dies and they do so then; leaving me with no place to live as they squabble how to divide the money from its sell. Without any regard how much time and money I have put into it over the years; even more so since my grandmother died. Not realizing the reason I chose to stay and help with her care was for the simple fact. She was the only one besides Aunty M who ever really cared about me.

It was my way of paying her back for keeping Aaron safe from ending up like me; Alone and broken old man. I even have fears of Lee Ann and her family doing a drive by shooting to take me out of the home. Anything is possible. Trust me when I say I have no family ties and they, in turn, have no love for me in the slightest, but stand as a reminder that I mean nothing to nobody an obstacle easy to remove and discard. Like common trash. It would have been easier if didn’t exist at all. Plus knowing if I die the dogs I leave behind will be well cared for in Dons care without me. So yes the world would still go on without me in it. Not that my so called relatives noticed me except to say that I am an embarrassment, a scourge, cancer in their mist. Perhaps I am.

For the first time in a long time it was going to be the best Thanksgiving and Christmas ever; even though I wouldn’t be there to celibate it with Grandma, but that was ok with us as I hugged her one more time, telling her how much I loved her. Grandma made it clear before leaving that the Downing’s and I were expected Christmas day for presents and Christmas dinner. I new my parents and relatives were not going to like that and again I was ok with that. Knowing Pa would be there to protect me if need be and Aunty M.

The house smelt great with all of Ma’s pies and Aunty M fixing the two turkeys so big they had to least weighs fifty pounds each. By the time Ma was done inviting all our friends and neighbors, which included the Mayor and his wife. Pa was setting up two more tables in the living room; Aunt Lizzy and Mary and Aunt Lavern arriving with uncle Randle and his wife and friends of Aunty M arriving from Salt Lake City, which included her son Reggie and his four children; plus a new born as I watch Aunty M coo at her new grandson.

It seemed we were busting at the seams; it didn’t feel the same without grandma, but I knew she had her hands full dealing with my parents after making arrangements for me to stay with the Downing’s over the holidays. I also knew I wouldn’t be missed since I was non-existent regarding my other relatives. I know I keep saying it over and over, but I want my readers to understand. When it comes to me and my family and closes relatives like my fathers two brothers and one sister. I am completely alone. Which was always the case as far as they were concerned when it came to camp outs and family dinners during the summer months. It was easier for them to consider me non-existent rather than have me embarrass them being an outcast that didn’t fit in or belonged amongst them.

Aunty M must have pulled some strings with her friends high on the government scale. It was unfortunate she couldn’t get them to let Aaron spend the holidays with me; which would have made it even better, but she did promise that she and grandma would look after Aaron and she has never broken a promise regarding that. Yes, sir. I was the happiest boy alive as I sat next to my brothers and sisters and was surrounded with love. I couldn’t ask for more if I tried as I smiled over at Ma and Pa as they each gave me a special wink. Pa and I talked regarding why I dreaded the holidays as they reinforced and doubled their efforts regarding those adoption papers. Hoping sooner or later my parents would give in and sign them.

It’s not that they loved me or wanted me; it was more of a power struggle and reasons to seek total control. Grandma too was working on them as she tries to convince them to do the right thing. So far my Mother has dug deep roots when it comes to giving up the fight or see sense. So for the first time, I was excited and had reason to celebrate my 14th birthday as the Downing’s hung streamers and blew up balloons. Ma baked a huge birthday cake and was fixing my favorite food which was her lasagna and my double chocolate cookies. Aunty M stole Aaron for my birthday not saying why as he ran into my arms holding a present half squished saying Aunty M tried to help him wrap it.

To me he was the best present I could have gotten as I hugged him tight not daring to let him go, fearing he would dissolve in my arms. I couldn’t be any happier for the first time in my life I had everything I could have ever wanted. A family that truly loved me, it didn’t matter if our DNA matched. To me, this was where I belonged and I would fight tooth and nail to make it so.

It is amazing how we take things for granted. Clean cloths, food, and shoes on our feet; and the most important love. If only I knew what I know now of things that were about to take place. I would have not taken the love I felt for the Downing’s for granted, not one single moment would I have wasted; feeling the warm glow inside me that would change my life forever. 

If only I could change the past or stop time on a dime. Call me selfish, call me greedy. I would have sold my soul to the devil just to have that time back. I would have given anything to be back in their arms drinking in the warmth of their love for me. Yet for all my efforts and all my prayers; God was and is still forever silent.

Christmas is a time for joyous memories spent as a youth waiting for Santa Clause to deliver presents under the tree. Warm knowing smiles as you find and wrap that special gift for someone you love; Hiding it under the tree, as you impatiently wait for them to open it. Envisioning that surprised look, as they wonder how you knew. The aromas of freshly baked gingerbread, candies, cookies and pies of every kind; the turkey or honey glazed ham begging to be carved and eaten.

The holiday lights and displays from house to house and down the center of town. The oohs and awes of twinkle lights and greenery hung with ribbon and bows. Mistletoe and Holly as you wait beneath it, hoping to steel a kiss. Family and friends that gather around to sing Christmas carols and remember Christ birth as you let him into your hearts.

Yet for me, Christmas is neither of these things as the dark clouds gather and the light retreats into the shadows. I try to grip hold of the past as I watch it slowly sift through my fingers like sand. My hopes and dreams shatter before for me as the memories of the best two and half years of my life come crumbling down. But these are the memories I hold most dear as I do my best to relive them.

I remember the following day after my 13th birthday as the sun shown through my window. The rooster crowed telling me that today would be the beginning of a perfect day. I sprung from my bed pausing to feed Buttercup who was already up devouring a carrot whole, left over from scraps. I had told her I would bring her up a slice of apple later after morning chores as a treat and perhaps quick run around the room after school while did my homework. 

Ma was still getting used to Buttercup, found her self curious taking a moment to say hello dropping little pieces of apples, which was her favorite and small sticks of carrots. After finding out that hamsters like things that rabbits like. Yet she will not hold her nor pet her on the head.

She frowns when she notices a bulge in my front pocket and Buttercup nestled inside. She hates it worse when I let her ride on my shoulder or walk on my chest while sitting on the coach.  Aunty M, on the other hand, finds her ticklish as she pets her to prove to Ma that there is nothing to fear. You could hear Pa rumbling through the attic looking for the new Christmas decorations that he had ordered weeks ago grumbling if he had enough or needed to buy more. Will and Robert hurried down with a box in hand and their backpacks over their shoulders and giving a quick kiss to Ma as we catch the bus, already dreaming of Christmas.

As for any kid, December is a magical time, more so for me. Ma and Pa did not hold back, while I watched Pa become a kid again. There was so much to do and only twenty-four days to do it all in. Pa went all out as we helped decorate the house from the outside in including the barn. Pa figured the animals must have some joy as they to remember Christmas. After all, Christ was born in a manger. Stating there were animals in that stable as well as people. Therefore Christmas must have some meaning to them and they have as much right to celebrate it as we do.

Ma loved the holidays because of all the baking. You could say it was her fault that I wanted to be a chef when I grew up. And having been taught early on by other foster moms like the Frys and Steeds, least not forget Mr. Stringum on how to survive using the outdoors as your kitchen. It still gives me chills remembering the many cold nights by a warm fire; heating hidden cans of soup and salted pork or beef if I was lucky to have them. Ma beats them all when came to the holidays and her cooking.

We would start off with a giant gingerbread house, decorating it with tons of candy. Move on to cookies that would fill Christmas tins and plates and other treats of the season. Sing Christmas carols as we delivered them to our friends and neighbors. We boys would make special trips delivering homemade wooden toys like cars, alphabet blocks and small train sets. Ma and my sisters would add a new blanket or two and other warm clothing and baked goodies.

We loved playing Ding Dong Ditch as we left our presents and goodies by the door while one of us rung the doorbell then hide. The surprised look was worth all the hard work and the warm feeling inside knowing you were a part of that. The Downing’s were unique when came to sharing Christmas with others. It made me want to be like them when I was old enough to have a family of my own and pass down the traditions of love for another human being. Even though sometimes I feel my efforts or wasted like this year not receiving a Christmas card or goodies in return from all of the 25 or so families I sent out Christmas cheer. I am saddened that this tradition has like so many become just a memory of times forgotten.

Don my father’s younger brother, his words will always hunt me as he tells me nobody wants anything to do with a broken down old man. That perhaps I should give up this silly tradition spending a week baking goodies for other peoples Christmas; while they don’t really care about returning any of that Christmas cheer. Stating people are just to busy to spend money and their time baking for their neighbors and friends, wonders why I even bother. What more can I give up when it comes to these silly traditions that used to give me warmth and peace inside? I no longer take part in the Christmas shopping or the decorating. Instead, I give him the money he needs to buy all the gifts for relatives that could care less if I lived or died. I don’t even help with the wrapping.

For in his eyes I don’t anything right and useless. Therefore everything has to be perfect for it is either his way or the highway; all I do is get in the way. So I no longer get involved, wishing I was dead where I would no longer be a bother to anyone anymore. Nothing comes from the heart, not even when we buy gifts for each other as we no longer bother to wrap them. Instead, they are handed to each other to be put away; like it is just another day of the week.

Over the last few years, it had gotten to the point that we wouldn’t even open our gifts to each other on Christmas day. Instead, they would sit under the tree for almost week after Christmas and new years have come and gone left unopened. Christmas day has become one of the blackest days since my grandmother died.  No longer do we go to her house for presents and Christmas dinner. Now we celebrate it at his brother’s house, amongst the very family that considers me an outsider, a scourge of embarrassment, a blight on the family name as they do their best to ignore me. And I, in turn, ignore them, knowing it will be another year before I will see them again. Like a dance that plays the same tune over and over again.

Don watching the clock as he waits to be summands to his sister’s house. Leaving me at home since she absolutely detests me. She blames me for everything including; stating on numerous times how unwelcome I am; considered an embarrassment to the family name unequal amongst them. Wishing that I would die or move away; She blames me as if I coxed Don too move, having torn down the family home. Yet truth be told, it was his idea and he’s the one that picked the house, which is another sore point and strikes against me

She wanted to be the one with the only deciding vote. If it was up to her we would be living in Mona or Nephi 70 miles out in the middle of nowhere to regards to any nearby town. Far from her sight and completely out of her mind; personally, it wouldn’t have made a difference where we lived. She would still ignore us just the same as she does now. The difference is she no longer has to put on a show in regards to my grandmother. Now that she’s dead, she doesn’t care one iota about the rest of us.

I could be invisible while Don does and goes at her beck and call. Spending hours into the wee early morning, watching them get plastered drunk before he is allowed to come home. Complaining how cheated he was considering the money he spent on gifts for them and their high society price tags. To them, they consider any gift from him a small trinket or stocking stuffer; fully taking advantage of him, year after year; whether if it was Christmas or a birthday. It is his duty to oblige them because of he afraid to say no.

Where has my tradition gone? The ones I have been holding tight too… right on down to the fresh Christmas tree. Pa and we boys would go up the canyon, tromping through the cold wet snow; the wind biting our nose, our ears were freezing cold as we search for that perfect tree, the hot cocoa warming our insides as we toast our hands and feet by the fire.

Two years of the best Christmas is all that remains of my memories. I still remember my Sisters Julie and Anna’s faces as they unwrapped my presents, giving them a painted wooden horse running through the green fields. A music box that played their favorite melody; little twin pop guns for Sam and Ted. A brooch I had made in school and a new scarf for Ma; Pa, a new winter coat lined with wool with help from Ma and Aunty M sewing it in secret. Plus all the gifts we had bought from Salt Lake City, piled high begging to be opened. Yes, I loved the holidays back then. But now they are gone for good.

I have no family to share them with, no loved ones to spend the time with. I have lost the reason to live. For all I have are the fading memories and people telling me? I will find answers with a prayer. I would ask how when God has been forever silent in my life. Telling me I am the lucky one, not having turned to drugs or alcohol like most people in my situation. My only reason for staring back at me as I visualize my Pa and Ma’s face. What would they say if they found me walking into a bar sitting at the counter drinking my sorrows away? What would they say to me if they saw me sticking needles in my arm? Would they be proud of finding me strung out when they have taught me better?

Christmas to me now is but a shadow of the past, a dark hole that eats at me every year as I spend alone with people that rather I didn’t exist. Yet there is hope a small sliver of hope providing I can loosen the bonds that hold me chained to my failure. A hope of finding someone still to share the rest of my life with; leaving behind family, relatives, and friends, beginning a new life where there was none before.

Yet two years of the best Christmas I have ever known does not make up for all the bad things that are about to come; as I watch not seeing the signs before me and the toll that it taking on the two people in my life besides the Downing’s. The gatekeepers keeping my parents a bay; those doors are about to bust open as the darkness takes me away pushing and extinguishing light as the cold darkness takes its place once more, while I wait in silence my true nightmare begins.