christmas eve

Saying Goodbye

Posted on by sennajandy

Happy Thanksgiving, my American squadlings!

Today marks the last family Thanksgiving at my grandmother’s house. She has been in the house for 50 years, and in the past month, she sold it to a young, engaged couple who plan to start their lives together there.

For my entire 19 years of existence, I cannot remember a Christmas Eve that wasn’t spent at that house. My whole family lived for Christmas Eve at that house.

Well, that’s not going to happen this year.

Tonight, we spent our final family holiday in the big, white house, that somehow, everyone in our family -having been raised in the house or not- could call home. My grandmother has to be out of the house by December 30th, which means Christmas Eve isn’t going to happen there this year…Or ever again.

It’s going to be very strange come Christmas Eve when we’re not rushing off to Grandma’s house for our traditional Christmas Eve celebration. Frankly, I don’t even know where –or IF– it will be held this year.

So, to the young couple moving into that big, old house, I leave you with this:

Treat it well. That house was more than just a house to us, it was a home. It was where my aunt Sarah knocked over the Christmas tree, twice. It was where my cousins and I would stand on the half-wraparound porch on Christmas Eve when we were younger, trying to catch a glimpse of Santa’s sleigh off in the distance (spoiler alert: we never did). It was where THAT Christmas Eve happened, and if my family is reading this, they’ll know what I’m talking about.

The bell on the back of the front door chimes with a familiar ding ding ding whenever someone enters. I’m assuming you will remove the bell when the time comes for you to move into the house. That’s fine, but you should know the story behind it: my grandparents had eight children, seven of whom were girls. My grandfather placed the bell on the back of the door so he would know exactly when his children came home at night. Over the years, the bell became a part of that house. We became so used to hearing that sound that it doesn’t even phase us anymore; in all honesty, I sometimes forget the bell is even there.

For fifty years, every member of my family, new and old, have walked the halls of that house. A part of us will always be in that house. If you see families driving by, gazing up at your house with a smile on their faces, don’t be alarmed: it’s us. We just want to take a look at the part of us that we’re leaving to you.

We are leaving it to you. It will always be a part of us, but it’s time to move on. Take care of it, love it as we did, as we always will.

To the future owners of that big, old, white house, I wish you nothing but the best. I hope that house ends up just as much a part of you as it is of us. I’m sure our paths will cross again some day, but until that day comes, look out for it for me, ok?

A Very Carbon Monoxide Christmas

Posted on by sennajandy

December 24th, 2008, 5:14AM. 

I was sleeping peacefully, like any eleven-year-old would have been that early in the morning. It was my first Christmas break as a middle schooler. However, my sleep was rudely interrupted by a loud, shrill BEEP BEEP BEEP.

Since my bedroom is closest to the stairs, I woke up on the first beep. I lay in bed, confused, as I listened to the sound repeat itself again. And again. And again.

As I heard my mother get up and go downstairs, I remembered something: A few weeks earlier, I had been having dinner with my brother and my father at my father’s house. I had noticed a small, white box plugged into the wall in my dad’s dining room.

“What’s that?” I asked my dad, pointing to the box.

“That’s a carbon monoxide alarm.” My dad answered.  

“What does it do?”

“Press the button.”

And so I did. The response from the box was a loud BEEP BEEP BEEP, the exact same sound I was hearing now.

NO.

I lay in bed, paralyzed by fear, as I heard my mother on the phone with my father downstairs. Even though my parents had been divorced for almost two years at that point, my mom would still call my dad to ask him questions about the house they once shared. Suddenly, my mother stopped talking. There was silence for a moment, then, she began to run up the stairs.

I was out of bed before she reached the top step. She flipped on the light in the hallway and yelled, “GET UP!” I ran into my brother’s room and screamed for him to get up. I probably also threw a “WE’RE GONNA DIE” in there, but hey, I was eleven.

It’s strange: Everyone always says what they’d grab if they had to leave their house in the middle of the night. Some say pictures, some say prized possessions…but when you’re really IN the situation where you have to pick and choose what to take, you don’t even think about it. You grab what’s near you.

In my case, that was my beloved Blankie, my tattered baby blanket (yes, it’s still on my bed to this day. Leave me alone.) My brother grabbed the portable cage for our Leopard Gecko and put her inside. My mother, being the wonderful person she is, grabbed her phone…and a bra. Classic. 

As I ran downstairs, I caught a glimpse of the clock in the living room. It was 5:14AM, December 24th, 2008.

The fire department determined the cause of the Carbon Monoxide was a vent in our chimney that had iced over in the winter. When our heat turned on at 5:00 in the morning, the heat that went up our chimney had nowhere to go, thus backfiring into our house as Carbon Monoxide. I know, it’s weird, but my house is 87 years old. Cut it some slack.

The fire department also told us that, half an hour longer inside the house, and we wouldn’t have made it. In just fourteen minutes, the level of Carbon Monoxide in our house jumped from zero to 365. In fourteen minutes.

My parents had purchased the Carbon Monoxide alarm ten years earlier, expecting they would never have a reason for it, but “just in case.” Today, the Carbon Monoxide alarm that saved our lives that Christmas Eve morning is still in my home, resting comfortably in an outlet in my basement. It’s recommended to replace the alarms every five years; we now have two more in the house, one for every floor.

I hope whoever is reading this makes sure they have a Carbon Monoxide alarm in their home, as well. Even if you think you’ll never need it, buy one. Just in case.

Merry Christmas, squadlings.