Author Jane Green has opened up about the complex emotions surrounding her first Christmas alone, following the end of her 18-year marriage. While she firmly believes splitting up was the right decision, the festive period brought a stark reminder of the family life she once built and shared.
A New Beginning in Marrakech
Instead of spending the holiday with her four young adult children in America, where she had lived for two decades, Green found herself in Morocco. She had moved to Marrakech for a fresh start, renting a small riad in the medina. The author expressed pride in her courage to leave a marriage that was no longer working, but acknowledged the profound difficulty of the choice, especially in one's late fifties.
The lead-up to Christmas felt unfamiliar. There were no twinkling lights in the streets, the sun was shining, and she had no idea where to find a Christmas tree. The absence of traditional festive cues mirrored the absence of her old life. A welcome distraction came when a friend of her daughter's, stranded in London, asked to join her. The young woman's arrival brought much-needed youthful energy to the season.
Contrasting Christmas Eves: Then and Now
Green vividly recalls the bustling Christmas Eves of her past in Connecticut. Her home would be heaving with guests from all walks of life, wearing sequins and sparkles. She would cook elaborate feasts, including spiced ribs and Jamie Oliver's Yorkshire puddings. The best part, she remembers, was the quiet moment after the party when closest friends gathered around the fireplace.
Her first solo Christmas Eve was spent with new friends in Marrakech, a kind gesture she gratefully accepted. She and her daughter's friend borrowed their hosts' Christmas onesies and shared a cosy breakfast. While the experience was sweet and welcoming, it underscored how different her life had become. "It didn't feel much like Christmas at all," she admits.
The Year of Feeling and Finding Home
Green confesses that during her first post-divorce Christmas, she was still slightly numb, avoiding the full weight of her grief. She has since embarked on a year of "quieting down" and going inwards, finally allowing herself to feel the pain necessary for healing.
She has now moved to a rented villa on the outskirts of Marrakech, a quieter setting with views of olive groves and the snow-capped Atlas Mountains. She has shipped over a container of her belongings—art, books, and family memorabilia collected over forty years—making the house feel more like a home. Unpacking the family's box of Christmas decorations, each bauble telling a story, was a bittersweet experience.
A recent trip to New York for Thanksgiving highlighted her changed role. She was a guest at her son's table, no longer the mistress of her own kitchen, feeling every pang of their lost family unit. Her children, busy with their own lives, did not join her in Morocco for Christmas, though she deeply wished they might find a home there with her.
Surrender and Gratitude
This year, Green will spend Christmas on her own again, though with invitations to parties and plans to host friends. She acknowledges a part of her still yearns for the past—her children, her old house, and the comfort of familiarity. However, she recognises a tendency to romanticise what was and is learning the art of surrender.
"I try to focus on what I am grateful for rather than what I have lost," she writes. While feelings of sadness for her former family life remain, they now sit side-by-side with gratitude for the new life she is courageously building for herself, one decorated with memories and hope.
