The real white beard should help his perfect “Santa Suit”. Adding a little coal dust, he headed to the chimney.
“Oh, Grandpa,” she laughed “Don’t you know I am 12 years old?”
The real white beard should help his perfect “Santa Suit”. Adding a little coal dust, he headed to the chimney.
“Oh, Grandpa,” she laughed “Don’t you know I am 12 years old?”
She waited quietly behind the fence for the plane to land. Six long months since she saw him leave for Korea with his Army Unit. Tears were rolling down her face, landing on her very pregnant belly. As each plane landed, she felt her heart sink.
Finally, his plane landed and pulled up to the entryway. She waited, her heart pounding, to see his face. He ran out, smiling and felt his heart melt as he looked at his wife carrying the child that he would soon hold. Home. Her. That baby girl. What could be better than that?
She is 86 years young. I grew up to this amazing person, my aunt, youngest sister of my mother.
Since I was a toddler, I would walk up the hill to her house, plant flowers with her, watch her can vegetables, help her work in the garden, and help decorate for Christmas.
When I was a young adult, trying to survive a disastrous marriage, be a single mom, work and go to school, she made sure my kids and I had clothes, food, toys. Even today at her last siblings funeral, she smiled at me and said, “Maybe someday I can make up to you all that you have done for me.”
I smiled and quietly whispered, “If I were to live a thousand years I could not begin to make u for all you have done for me.”
I think often of what the world would be like if it were full of people like my aunt. She listens, she cares, she is generous, considerate, loving beyond all reason. I envy her thoughtfulness, honesty, willingness to help, or even to be kind when she disagrees.
If ever there has been a person who is “my precious. Is is my aunt, who is like a “sister”and friend as well. I have shared my joys and sorrows with her, helped her with her ailing elders, and enjoyed visits to her house several times a week, if not more. When I thin of the word, “beautiful”, her face comes to mind. She is the kind of person that makes life worth living on my worst day, a true treasure.
Thanks for being ‘my precious’, Aunt Phib!
“That’s my favorite Christmas song!” I said as I looked up at my mother.
She smiled back at me, busily wrapping gifts and checking the stove.
I looked outside, and noticed the dark gray sky, hoping, that soon snow would be coming down onto the mountains around our house. Going to my grandmothers farm for Christmas would not be a problem, because it was only up the hill from my house.
“Mom,” I asked with hope in my blue eyes, “Could I PLEASE open just one of my presents tonight. My friend Sarah’s family does that. It makes Christmas last another day. . Besides, with my birthday right after Christmas, it is the only really special time I have.”
Mom sighed as she removed a pumpkin pie from the oven. “ I like for you to wake up on Christmas morning-very early- (she smiled and brushed her hand through my curly hair) and see you sneaking through the house to find the presents under the tree. “You know that I hear you!”
“But Mom,” I begged, you told me that all your family had was stocking hanging on the end of your parent’s bed, with some fruit and maybe one toy. Things don’t have to always be the same!”
“Oh, alright.” My mother said, as she rushed about. “But just ONE!” she emphasized.
I jumped up, shouting “Oh, thank you, mom, thank you!”
I remember that day-49 years ago. I remember the dress she wore, the tattered apron over it,The tired look on her face, the flour spilled on the table.
Tears fill my eyes as I wonder where time has gone. My own children are grown and have children nearly that old. I lost a child 7 ½ years ago, and I often refer to this time of year as the “Helladays” because they make me miss my young, lively healthy family so much.
I struggle to cook a few snacks for the teen I still have living at home. Where does time go? Why do we loose those people and times we treasure so much? I wiped a tear and turned on the radio as I cooked.
That same song came resounding through the speakers. I was surprised, filled with a mixture of sweet memories and loss.
“It’s the most wonderful time of the years!” the orchestra and singers sang in a rhythm that could have come from that long ago day.
I sneaked into my sons room and handed him a small wrapped gift.
“Whats this, Mom?” he smiled.
“Just a little memory,” I said. Merry Christmas!
He got up from his video game and gave me a hug. “You are the best mom in the world,” he said.
And for a moment, I saw my mom saying the same thing to her. I held back the tears, so he wouldn’t see me cry and walked slowly back to the kitchen.
Perhaps the Christmas spirit was still alive after all.
“Wow!” Jack gasped as he and his friend, Don, walked down the street that was sparkling with activity in the 1980’s. “It’s empty, tagged with grafitti, this was the main drag back then.!”
Don took a moment to look around at what had been a new and up-coming area of their small mid-western town. The plants thank had been placed there to beautify the cement surroundings were over-grown. The sculpted trees were tangled with vines. It was sad, heart-breaking,to be honest.
”Progess.” Don sighed. What a joke. The walked on to the “new”main drag only a few blocks away.
The house was gorgeous as the hanson pulled up into the circular drive. The horses were a bit restless in the blowing snow, the driver having to calm them so that Serafina and her soon-to be husband, Dalton emerged.
Serafina’s coats blew wildly around her dresses. Her bonnet barely holding on as Dalton held on to his new black tophat.
“I simply despise these extravagant events!” Serafina complined as the doorman bowed and let them in.
“Oh, Sera,” Dalton sighed, “It is only one night and being invited to a party at Sir Dellingam’s estate is something you simply don’t turn down if you want to be a Barrister in the town!”
Serafina sighed and handed her coat to the doorman, hanging on to her reticule as Dalton shook out his coat and handed it in as well.
They we motioned to a room glistening with the light of candles and lamps, a roaring fire warming the room a little too much. Several servants scuttled by with trays, offering drinks and cucumber sandwiches, tarts, and even a tray of chocolates.
Dalton noticed an associate from his firm across the room and lead Serafina toward him.
“Ah, Raymond!” Dalton said with a smile and slight bow, “May I present my future wife, Serafina?”
“ Very nice to meet you, my lady,” Raymond smiled and turned to his left. “This is my wife Abigail. I am sure you will become good friends in the years to come.”
After a few minutes of conversation and more that a proper amount of delicacies from the trays, Dalton whispered to Serafina, “Come, I have something to show you!”
With a look of suspense in her sparkling blue eyes, Serafina followed Dalton down a hall and through a door behind a stairwell. There they found themselves in a small library, with doors leading out outo a terrace.
Dalton, opened the door as the wind swept over them, immediately bringing her warm coat to Serafna’s mind.
“Where are we? She inquired.
With a sparkle in his eye he smiled, “A place quite alone within a crowed house.”
“How did you…” she started to say, but found her mouth sealed with those of her fiance’.
“Oh, my!” she smiled as she shivered a bit, both from the kiss and the cold of the wind.
“See, I told you such parties were not so terrible!” he laughed as he opened the door and hustled her back inside.
Sarafina shook the snow off of her hair, hoping the pins were not too far out of place from the wind and the stolen affection. She fluffed it a big and curled her arm through his as they returned down the hall to the party.
Suddenly, the fire seemed particularly attractive as they walked together and stood in front of it, their hands touching behind them as they warmed themselves.
“Maybe being the wife of a Barrister would not be so boring after all,” Serafina thought as she helped herself to another tart from the pro-offered silver platter.