December 1992

Christmas lights twinkled behind the drawn curtains, shining a dance on the linoleum tile. Linda wiped the kitchen counter down with a kind of proud expertise, getting every single spot and leaving no streaks. She could hear her mother laughing a sweet giggle with Linda’s daughter and for the first time in four years, felt a shy blip of contentment.

Then, she heard Ahmad laugh as well and, unconscious to her, the blip disappeared and she mindlessly wiped the counter again. The television sang Frosty the snoooowmaaan… the clicks of the oven sounded as it cooled, and she began putting food into containers for lunch the next day. Her youngest, her son, screamed shrill suddenly from the living room.

“Shhh, shh, let him have it, let him have it.” Ahmad said as Linda moved to the living room to squelch the sound. Four-year-old Nur obediently extended the toy, her own gift, out toward her brother. He snatched the set of Hot Wheels and sat down, trying to figure out how to rip it open, snot dripping directly from his nose into his mouth.

“Why don’t you give grandma her gift, Nuri?” Ahmad said kindly, handing Nur a wrapped square. A grin split immediately, showing her two giant front teeth, and she said quietly, trying to hide her glee, “Yes, please.”

Nur took the box, gave it to her grandmother, and watched while slightly squirming like kids do, as it was opened. Her grandmother gasped a real-sounding-but-fake-gasp of surprise at the mug that emerged. It had a picture of a cartoon cat on it. Nur got a hug and some tickles from her grandmother and happy cheers from her parents.

A few hours later, behind ajar doors, amongst the quiet, still-dancing Christmas lights on the tile, Linda and Ahmad fought again. The experiment had failed. The was the first and last Christmas of Nur’s childhood; she never forgot giving her grandmother the mug by the pine tree that they’d dragged into their living room for a reason she did not understand.