Familia

I had a very sad conversation with my host mother today; better said, our conversation was poignant for me, and simply the way things are for her. We had just sat down to dinner, while the muffled announcement of her lottery numbers wafted into the room from the ever-present TV on behind us, to a meal of pea soup, chicken with vegetables, and homemade ricotta cake. This was after my tutoring session, and after a quick stop with some friends for two glasses of wine which, like usual, came with two little tapa sandwiches. Needless to say, at this point I can barely breathe. I decided, in an attempt to make conversation, to ask her about her Christmas traditions. She chuckled to herself quietly, and asked me where I meant - did I want to know what things were like back in Italy when she was a young girl, in Africa after she was married, or here in Spain where she raised her three boys? All of it, I said. Why not? We had a lot of food to work through.

Irma has never been one for Christmas. Back in Italy, it was just her and her mother, and as an only child growing up in a family where there obviously wasn't much money, she never expected much. Sure she would hear about big celebrations in big families, but it was never something that she really looked forward to. Italy is a "Catholic country" like Spain, which means that Christmas is the religious portion of the holiday, and Kings' Day, the day that the Three Wisemen finally made it with their gifts to baby Jesus, is the day that everyone gives presents. She skipped over Africa to tell me about Spain with her boys; Irma and her husband owned several Italian restaurants here, a pizzeria, and a bakery, and after her husband died, she worked in a university residence hall feeding 50 students three times a day by herself. She told me that the family always tried to do something on Christmas, but the restaurants were still open and the bakery was always busy, and at the end of the long day serving hundreds of other families, there wasn't much spirit left in anyone to celebrate at home. Normally they'd open a bottle of wine, have some fried fish and maybe some chicken (Italian fish and chicken, she assured me), and get to bed. The kids always had a few presents on Kings' Day, but the family was never rich, and it was always better to have a nice meal or something made at home then something expensive which would be forgotten about in two months but which they would make payments on for the whole year.

These days, one of her sons lives his own life back in Italy, and she almost never gets over there to see him or her grandchildren. Her middle son, Neno, who lives with us, generally leaves his mom at home by herself on holidays and will go over to a friend's house, she thinks - she's not entirely sure where he ends up. Her youngest son, Juan Miguel, lives in Spain and has an English girlfriend with a huge family. He seems to love the holidays, she says, but she never goes with him, because "it's a rich family, and it's not like you can show up at the house with one hand in the other. I don't work anymore and neither does Neno, and holidays are expensive, such an effort." She also told me that she's "lost her taste for wine and beer," so there's not even that to celebrate with. These days, she says, she wakes up, starts making herself the dough for her ricotta and spinach ravioli, and gives herself the day off from housework. "Who would I go visit, honestly?" she told me. "Everyone I was friends with is dead, and so is my husband. I guess I could have a get-together in the cemetery with my ravioli." This makes us both laugh, her genuinely, and me self-consciously.

The great thing about Irma is that she's not one of those older people who feel bad for themselves and want you to do the same - in fact, she seems happy if not extatic about life, and keeps herself involved with tai chi and water aerobics three times a week. Not your typical 75 year-old. "When you grow up not really knowing something, not really celebrating a holiday, you don't miss it." An interesting point. It made me that much more thankful for my own traditions. In a year when I'm not at home much and I'm missing events like Thanksgiving, birthdays, and funerals, family and friends have been on my mind a lot. In an effort to avoid making this sound like a holiday-themed after-school special, I'll spare you anything too mushy, but really, the people are what's important. At least we have them. Life is too short to get hung-up on problems with logistics, material stuff, the fact that our families are insane and whatnot. Presents are fun, and if I don't have a re-creation of Thanksgiving bundled with everything wonderful about Christmas when I get home I'll be sorely disappointed, but the thing I'm most looking forward to this year is being home with my family, whether I'm related to them by blood or not.