Christmas Memories

Friday, December 24, 2010

I wrote this story for a creative writing class many years ago.  It brings back good memories.

When I reflect on all the Christmas seasons of my life, I have to smile.  I always remember Christmas as family time.  My mind's eye sees visions of Christmases past with sparkling clarity and I realize how completely I am a product of my upbringing.

A tiny five year-old, I hop nervously around my mother as she hangs up the Christmas stocking Nonnie made for me.  Have I been good enough?  What if Santa doesn't like peanut butter cookies?  After all, I don't.  Maybe he'll miss our house; there are so many others to stop at. 

My older brother and sister wake me in the middle of the night.  Blurry-eyed in wonder, I sit below a giant Christmas tree which is surrounded by boxes, beribboned and bowed.  I shiver with excitement.  I guess I WAS good.

In the mind of a seven year-old who knows secrets I shouldn't, Christmas eve  brings too much exhilaration to sleep.  The secret it out; the mystery is over.  I know more than they want me to.  From the top of the stairs, I witness Dad orchestrating the decorating of the tree.  As quiet as a mouse, I scamper back to bed, wishing I could be part of Christmas-in-the-making happening in the living room below.  It means so much to Mom and Dad to believe that I'm still naive.  I can't squeak now. 

At 15, I can't understand where parents get their crazy ideas.  "We could use that white aluminum artificial tree in the basement," Mom states as calmly as if she didn't know the kind of reaction it would produce. 

"Well you can bet I won't bring anyone I know to this house at Christmastime!" I retort in disbelief.

"Just wanted to know if you were listening," Mom chuckles back.

As a 30 year-old mother, the magic of Christmas for me is in the sparkle in my children's eyes.  We hang up their stockings and put out a plate of peanut butter cookies for Santa.  Mandy reads us Christmas stories; Ryan sets up the Nativity with baby Jesus and the "three wise guys".  We talk about the naughty and nice behavior of children in our house.  I want them to believe.  They'll only be kids once and they're still too young to know the secret.

The years pass by so quickly.  They're already teenagers--15 and 13.  This year, as we sit discussing our plans for the holiday, I can't resist.  "Maybe we shouldn't buy presents this year.  We could save a lot of money that way."

"NOT!  NO WAY!"  Ryan and Mandy retort, sure that their mother has gone off her rocker.

"WAY!"  I shoot back, playing their vernacular against them.

I let the kids gaze upon me in disbelief for a few second.  "Just wanted to know if you were listening."  I chuckle to myself as history repeats itself.

Merry Christmas everyone!