by Jeanette R. Harrison, MPH
This is my fifth Christmas in Idaho, and once again, I will be spending it alone with my dog. Over the years, my holiday experiences here have varied. One year, I spent most of the season with friends. During my first Christmas, however, I sat alone in my apartment, feeling blamed for how others treated me. It didn’t seem to matter that I was going through an incredibly stressful time in my life. I was literally starving that year, barely able to afford food.
The next holiday season was the best I’ve had in Idaho. I spent most of it with a close friend and attended several holiday gatherings. Still, I spent Christmas day alone.
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Photo by Jeanette R. Harrison |
However, the following year, Christmas took a darker turn. That weekend, I was in a car accident when another driver ran a red light and hit another car, causing a chain reaction. I wasn’t included in many holiday festivities that year, and the accident felt like a sour cherry on top of an already bitter cake.
Last Christmas, I tried to make the best of things. I made a concerted effort to attend holiday events (if I was invited) and decided to cook myself a holiday dinner. I couldn’t afford a turkey, so I bought several types of meat and chose one to prepare for Christmas. I made fish, canned corn, mashed potatoes, homemade biscuits, and a dessert. This will be relevant later in the story.
Before continuing, I need to share some backstory. Over the summer, I was focused on growing my business and ran a capital campaign to raise money. While I successfully raised the funds, starting over with absolutely nothing—as I had to during the pandemic—left me without any financial reserves. Starting over is hard enough, but doing so from nothing feels like being set up for failure. By October, I was struggling financially and took a part-time job, which didn’t work out. December arrived, and money was tight. I was frustrated, exasperated, and battling depression and despair as my business seemed to be going nowhere.
To clear my mind and get out of the house, I started walking to McDonald’s for morning coffee. Yes, McDonald’s. For $1, I could get coffee and sit somewhere for a while. I became a regular, and the staff often chatted with me. One day, while having coffee, I met a man who seemed to be a wanderer. I suspected he was homeless, though he didn’t explicitly say so. I referred him to some resources, just in case he needed them.
We talked frequently, and he introduced me to his favorite philosopher, Rumi, sharing insights and stories about his travels. I listened intently, appreciating the connection.
On Christmas, I was home alone, watching television. I made myself a fish dinner, as I had planned. I decided my dog’s Christmas gift would be a special walk in a different location. During our walk, I saw the man from McDonald’s huddled near a building. I approached him and asked if he had eaten that day. When he said no, I offered to cook him dinner and bring it to him. I said, “It’s Christmas. No one should have to spend Christmas alone.” I understood his isolation and loneliness all too well.
After sitting and talking with him for a while, I went home, feeling cold but grateful for my warm apartment. I reflected on my journey, expressing gratitude for overcoming homelessness and the fortitude I’d developed over the years. I said a special prayer for my McDonald’s friend.
After the New Year, I started a day job. Occasionally, I’d see him walking along the road. Each time, I felt empathy and gratitude—grateful that my circumstances had improved, even if only slightly. I realized that, deep down, we weren’t so different.
This Christmas feels a little better. Despite what many small business owners call “Dead Broke December,” I’m doing slightly better financially because I reached out for help when I needed it. While I still need support, this year I have my dog, my movies, my phone to stay connected, a modest income, and a planned holiday dinner. Yet, I’ll still be spending Christmas Day alone.
Though the holidays can be tough, I’ve learned to find moments of peace and gratitude in the smallest things. Sometimes, those moments are what makes getting through the holidays alone almost bearable.
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