The coat my mother gave me for Christmas

What really matters.

My mom and I don’t have much in the way of material things. But we have something that a whole lot of richer families don’t have: we have real love and understanding.

When I look at all the writing coming out about adults who are cutting off their elderly parents, I sometimes cry. How horrible, for the parents, children and grandchildren. Therapy culture and liberal politics have brought us the idea that you should just stop having contact with any family member who disagrees with you or voted a different way. Parents who were not perfect (as far as I know, there is only one perfect being, and that is God, who if you are a Christian you believe sent his only son to die on a cross, so how bad can it really be with your parents?) get cut off. “Go no contact” is the phrase. It sounds like “Go shirtless” or “go no bra.” As though how to conduct your relationship with the people who brought you into the world was a matter of fashion.

My mom and I have had a far from perfect life, but I always knew that my mom accepted me for who I am, whoever that was. Lots of money or no money, in vibrant health or throwing up for hours, no matter what. All I had to do was be me.

We had wonderful holidays this year. Thanksgiving at our favorite restaurant and Christmas at her house with my fluffy brother and sister. Sister Georgia is very fluffy, a cow cat with tons of fur, and Elliott is an orange shorthair who is very serious and who loves to sit on my mom and cuddle with Georgia. I bet we enjoyed our simple meal more than a lot of people enjoyed their fancy ones.

We’ve both been around more expensive holiday traditions. Opening of presents where the dollar value of the purchase mattered a lot. I saw my father and step-mother spend money on my brother and sister-in-law who in turn spent a lot of money on them. All of them had more than what they needed. It was a nice ritual but at the base of it, a game.

This year, I got my mom small things. A pair of cat earrings, lavender (her favorite scent) lotion and shower gel, an order of groceries the week before Christmas at Wegman’s and I brought the meatloaf I made and some Amish pies.

She got me a coat. It’s an extremely warm, incredibly insulated Lands End. Second hand. Looks like it was never worn before someone gave it to the consignment shop. Only about $30. I’d say it’s a $200 coat. I love it more because she got it on a bargain, not less.

We had a huge snowstorm, but my favorite school is open again. I lost three days of pay, but now I’m back. I have to walk. It’s twenty lovely minutes in good weather, but now it’s like climbing the Swiss Alps.

Climb every mountain! (Yes, you will have the Sound of Music soundtrack stuck in your head!)

As I brave that cold, the only things that protect me are that coat and my mom’s love. Bought with pure love, it keeps the wind away. I am warm even as I scramble with my teacher bag and my little lunch bag cooler that my mom also gave me, over mountains of ice and snow.

I can show up, all stickers and smiles, for kids who need a consistent presence in their lives, because I have one in mine. Maybe I can understand my students and their parents a little better because I know what my mom went through, and what she still goes through.

The rich have a different set of problems, as I learned from knowing them and working with them. But those of us who have been poor know what it’s like to be cold. We know how important a second hand coat for Christmas can be.

Mom was sad that we didn’t have more Christmas presents. I thought our presents were perfect. Not signaling some material prosperity, but showing real love.

Can you think of something better to protect you from the world’s cold?

If you zoom in you can see the stairs I have to climb - 26 of them - to get over a bridge over the railroad tracks to get to work.