Christmas Without Mama
by Cheryl Green school, ballet and tap and I still acted a fool.
My mom and I were total opposites.
Yet, I was my mother’s favorite. I know it. They say parents aren’t supposed to have favorites, but you can’t convince me that as her only daughter, I wasn’t hers. An only daughter means that you have a built-in best friend and confidante. Someone you can shop with and perhaps even live vicariously through.
She was the definition of classy and ladylike. She had a great sense of humor, and on occasion could be shockingly raw, although no one outside the family ever saw that side. She was an educator, known for her sense of style and fashion, and unyielding with her values and opinions about how young ladies should act. I, on the other hand, was a rebel…loud and always looking for opportunities to make others laugh. While this often embarrassed her (I was called “ignorant” many times), she was also amused by it. She loved to say that she sent me to charm school, modeling
I can still remember how she went all out in giving gifts to her children. Even as adults we’d have at least five or six wrapped presents to open and some unwrapped “Santa” gifts that we’d see in the morning when we’d come downstairs — just like when we were kids. Years after I moved to DC, I’d often bring friends home to Chicago to stay and visit with me. They were always amazed because she would treat them as if they were her own children. For Christmas she’d make sure they had gifts under the tree to open. She was extremely generous, a quality about her that I loved and hated, mostly because I’d
12
see people take advantage of her at times. The extremely close relationship that I had with my mom, coupled with her love for the Christmas season, made getting through the holidays almost unbearable the first few years after she transitioned in 2014. I’d cry every time I’d hear one of her favorite
