By: Paulina Sicius
The author and her younger sister on Christmas morning.
My earliest memory involves going to the evergreen forest next to the small town in Spain where we lived to collect wood for nuestro pesebre—our Nativity scene. Daddy explained that we had to find dry pieces of wood to build the stable, where we would house the tiny ceramic Jesus in his crib, along with a glazed and saintly Mary and Joseph, the three wise men (one of which was missing a hand), and a plethora of plastic animals.
I was five years old and honored with building such a holy place, so I swept away leaves and unburied pieces of wood, looking for a flawless piece. I was an archaeologist, meticulously planning the perimeter and surveying pieces of bark, sticks, and branches. Whenever I found what I believed to be a suitable contender under my strict criteria, I put it in my plastic Carrefour bag.
Meanwhile, my younger sister, about three at the time, played with sticks and chased down bugs. “Lucia! You’ve gotta look for wood para el pesebre. What are you doing, focus!” Lucia would carelessly pick up the closest stick to her and run to Daddy, who would congratulate her on her find and put the tiny piece of wood in his plastic bag. I knew he was doing this to placate her. We would never add a stick like that to our Nativity scene. Our pesebre was the most beautiful one I’d ever seen (save for the Balthazar with the missing hand). Every year, Daddy would build a new stable using real wood from the forest. Mami would decorate it with the ceramic pieces she had spent years collecting (any time we were on a trip and saw a piece for el pesebre, she’d buy it without hesitation). And from the ages of three to five, I was tasked with creating the shooting star that Daddy glued to the top of the stable. My parents made a big deal about the fact that I could cut and glue at the age of three. “She’s a natural craftmaker!” The three of us made for a good team.
That year was the first time Lucia and I went to the forest to help Daddy collect wood. I remember feeling a fire raging through me when I found out that she and I would both be allowed to go to the forest with Daddy. I threw a short tantrum but quickly realized that she was part of the deal for us to help Daddy, so I bit my tongue and accepted it. In my five-year-old world, there was no bigger injustice than my younger sister being able to do things at an earlier age than I had been able to. Like many older siblings, this was a leitmotif that lasted well into my teens.
On the car ride over to the forest, Daddy explained to us exactly which pieces to pick—dry, hard, and about my five-year-old arm’s length. Unlike Lucia, I took mental notes of his descriptions and repeated these over in my head to ensure that I would choose the best ones. We spent all afternoon hidden away in the forest, where nothing mattered—not pre-K, nor my friends, or even the dog—besides el pesebre.
Once the sun set and we were back home, where the fireplace guarded us against the frigid December temperatures, we examined our finds.
I took my plastic bag and dumped the pieces of wood on our dining room table. My mother squealed as tiny wood chippings, mulch, and pill bugs splattered all over the table and the rug.
“Noooooo, what have you done!?” Mami fell to her knees and began picking up minuscule pieces from the rug, like a monkey picking fleas from her infant’s scalp. “No me lo puedo creer,” she said for every handful she picked.
Daddy came into the dining room with the vacuum. He plugged it in and it roared to life with a wave of anger similar to my mother’s. “Get out of here, girls,” he yelled. “Paulina, I can’t believe you ruined the pesebre.”
I jumped out of the chair and ran to my sister and I’s room. I lay face down on my princess-sheet bed and cried. I’d tried so hard to make this Christmas tradition perfect. I was meticulous about choosing the wood, yet I had been so stupid as to dirty the dining table and mom’s beloved rug. I felt frustrated at how young and stupid I was. I wanted to be older. I wanted to lead the tradition of building el pesebre for the first time. I wasn’t clueless like my sister. I cared about the tradition.
In the middle of my sobs, I thought: Oh no. What if they call Santa and tell him about this?!! I imagined myself running to the tree on Christmas morning and finding a lump of coal instead of the pink roller skates I’d asked for. My sister would surely be forgiven for everything bad she had done, from putting gum in my hair to painting the walls. But I, who should have been older and wiser, would surely not be. I know better, like Daddy always reminded me. Anxiety grew throughout my body as I thought about my punishment. My heart began beating faster, and tiny drops of sweat formed in my palms. I couldn’t lay in bed anymore, so I ran to the dining room and hid behind the door, waiting to find the perfect opportunity to apologize to Mami and Daddy. As a good Catholic, I knew that asking for forgiveness was the one true and tried way to get out of trouble.
I peered behind the door into the dining room, and Mami and Daddy were sitting at the table. The aftermath of my destruction was nowhere to be found.
“Do you think I was too harsh on her?” asked Daddy.
“Maybe a bit. It was just a mistake,” my mom said.
“You’re right, but she just acts so much older sometimes, I forget that she’s five.”
I held on to the door as I listened. I shifted to wipe my tears, and the door creaked.
“Hey, you,” said Daddy as he craned his neck to find me behind the door. Oh no, I’d been discovered. Now I was completamente in trouble, and Santa would be the first to find out.
“Come over here,” Daddy said as he waved me over. I looked down and stared at my feet whilst I scurried towards him. He grabbed me and put me on his lap. “What a mess you made, huh?” He whispered while wiping my tears. “But, man, you found some good pieces of wood for our pesebre, Paulina.”
“We should get started on it,” said Mami while she stroked my hair.
“Should I go get Lucia?” I sniffled.
“Yeah, go get her,” said Daddy. “But wait,” he grabbed my sleeve and pulled me back. “Make sure to hurry back. I can’t build the stable without you!”
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