Family Tale
Christmas ’19

Why will everything be this way?

I can’t act – I never went to a drama club, and trying to immerse myself in front of a white wall and pretend it’s already Christmas just doesn’t work for me. Sure, it would be easier if I could: it would save time, money, and cleaning. But the Muses would flee – and they’re as quick as deer.

I can’t “train” my children for a photoshoot either – telling them to “get into the mood” simply doesn’t work. The only thing I can train is the environment: boxes, wrapping paper, shops, ideas, even grabbing a Christmas tree in October. I can even persuade my husband to make the wheels I need, because with them I’d bring home not only gifts but also happiness.

During the photoshoot, I’m the one at the wheel, and beside me are my tousle-haired kids. The sister clings to her brother, the brother carries her in his arms – if they were strangers, the feeling would be different. And for the first time, my husband’s arms wrapped around me in a Christmas photoshoot, even though he insisted for so long that he’s “no model.” We could have asked some other man who feels more comfortable in front of a camera, but the feeling just wouldn’t be the same.

We didn’t act. We didn’t comb our emotions into shape. We didn’t build artificial coziness. Our task was simply to fall headfirst into what was real – into little hands touching snow, stroking a warm baby goat, into the first October snow drifting down from an overworked snow machine.

There was no acting. Only a fairy tale. About us. About the goats and Mr. Ferdinand. About the little orphan we found in the forest and gave a true Christmas to. And about the snow that began to fall just as autumn began.

V.