i grew up in a household where my mother would get depressed every Christmas and throw temper tantrums, curse you out and say some of the most awful things; dad would drink too much and make it some sort of a joke party. nonetheless, Christmas brings something very special because me and my brothers always found magic in the holiday - my cheap parents had to actually buy us something and, for once, we were children. dad was, at least, well-intentioned; the slack from mom was picked up by her mother and sister, whose cooking made it a family holiday and celebratory.

there is something very peaceful about the holiday. it's not what others make it; it's what you make it. the light of day is shortest and, if you're in a northern climate, it's cold. but, there is a spirit of warmth. yes, commercialism seems to have corrupted this holiday. but, if you buy modest but thoughtful gifts, you will get through it just fine on a budget. it's a great time to build happy or sad memories. but, it's what you make it. my Christmases were far from perfect but, regardless of what was missing, they are still fondly and warmly remembered.

today i called my mother. she said, "i am so depressed; i've been crying. i hate Christmas. i hate the holidays." my response? "so, what else is new?" in the darkness of winter, Christmas still brings the hope that happiness exists, if only for a fleeting day. it's a bulletproof holiday that my mom can't ruin, no matter how hard she tries.