Amy Lu's View

While there are many artifacts from my life that I wish I had managed to hold on to (like my wedding dress), I am thankful for some cherished holiday relics that I do still own: Christmas stockings that my mom made for Chad and me, and a creche.

I’m not exactly sure when my mom made my stocking, but I always remember having it. At least, I think she made my stocking. Damn, now that I’m really thinking about it, I wonder if my story is accurate–did one of her friends actually make it? Or did one of her friends make the stockings for my older brother and sister and then my mom made mine to match?

I do know for certain that the “Amy” on the trim of the stocking is in my mom’s writing. My mom’s writing was so distinctive and physically embodies her essence in a way I can’t fully describe. It always makes me sad when I hear that handwriting is going away because people only use keyboards nowadays (I say as I type) because handwriting is so personal.

And I definitely know she made Chad’s stocking. I don’t think it was too long into our dating career when she decided he was part of the family and needed a stocking to match the ones the rest of her “children” had.

These stockings are especially meaningful to me because my mom didn’t make a lot of things (I definitely take after her in that way). She certainly DID a lot of things, and bought a lot of things, and said a lot of things, and ate and drank a lot of things, but didn’t make things.

But she made these stockings, and 30-50 years lately, we still have them. She’s gone, but the memories (whether or not they are completely accurate) live on.

I definitely remember all the goofy “stocking stuffers” my mom gave us. We usually opened our “real” presents on Christmas Eve, and, much to Chad’s dismay, they usually weren’t surprises (although I often forgot what I was getting so was surprised). But on Christmas we were treated to a plethora of silly and weird gifts that more than stuffed the stockings, and spilled out and around them.

I don’t have any idea of how my family acquired our nativity scene, or how I ended up with it, but it’s certainly a tangible piece of my childhood. I never liked it per se, but it was always there. It does seem a little grim, but I like how durable it is, and I’m rather impressed that it features two non-Caucasian Wise Men.

I will always treasure this photo from 2017 of our dear elderly Oscar just days before he died:

I don’t believe in the literal truth of the story of The Wise Men visiting the Baby Jesus, but I’m pretty sure the Baby Jesus and Company would have warmly welcomed a visit from a sweet elderly dachshund. And my mom would have brought much more entertaining gifts.