A Christmas Collection of Memories
Call me ungrateful, but I didn’t want the little collectable dolls Aunt Jenny always gave me for Christmas. I liked the Tonka trucks & boy toys that my cousin Randall always got. What a thrill it was the Christmas Uncle Tommy & Aunt Jenny gave me a gun & holster set. But it was Christmas Eve. For the first time in 364 days, I wanted to go home and go to bed. Running outside and gazing up at the sky in search of the sleigh, I wondered just whose house Santa might be at. I was worried that if I didn’t get home soon and get to bed, Santa wouldn’t leave anything because he wouldn’t find me sleeping.
***
“There’s no such thing as Santa Claus.” Your mom & dad are Santa Claus” I remember quite well the day that Terry told me the news as I referred to Santa Claus while playing dolls. But she was wrong. I did not hesitate to tell her that I knew better. It was only a few days earlier that I had sat in Santa’s lap while my parents were standing right there. That was proof enough. With all three in my presence it was just not possible that Mom or Dad was Santa Claus.
***
The floor would always creak right about the time you would hit the hallway right in front of Donna & Joy’s room. But I had a plan. With a spool of thread from my mom’s sewing machine, I tied the string around Donna’s big toe. That way, when I got up long before dawn to check out what was under the tree, all I had to do was pull on the string to wake Donna up. She would then wake Joy up and we would all quietly meet in the living room. So the wee hours came and I pulled the string only to find that there was no toe attached at the end. So the plan failed as we creaked our way to the Christmas tree, never knowing that we could never ever be quiet enough for Mom & Dad not to know we were up. Donna isn’t with us anymore. I can’t help but think that one day when I pass on from this world, I may awake to find her tugging on my big toe and saying, “Hey girl… wait til you see what’s under this Christmas tree!”
***
So much for Santa Claus. I always knew what Christmas was really about. As a child, I hung out in the woods a lot. Maybe it was a bit weird, but I recollect telling the trees the Christmas story…and once gluing a school picture to a letter to Jesus, wrapping it in a plastic cleaner bag and burying it. All it said was Happy Birthday Jesus. Remember me. Months later I dug it back up just to see if he got it. Maybe nature destroyed it; maybe it was eaten by bugs. It wasn’t there. It doesn’t matter. I look back on the years… yes, Jesus has remembered me.
Happy Birthday Jesus!
Call me ungrateful, but I didn’t want the little collectable dolls Aunt Jenny always gave me for Christmas. I liked the Tonka trucks & boy toys that my cousin Randall always got. What a thrill it was the Christmas Uncle Tommy & Aunt Jenny gave me a gun & holster set. But it was Christmas Eve. For the first time in 364 days, I wanted to go home and go to bed. Running outside and gazing up at the sky in search of the sleigh, I wondered just whose house Santa might be at. I was worried that if I didn’t get home soon and get to bed, Santa wouldn’t leave anything because he wouldn’t find me sleeping.
***
“There’s no such thing as Santa Claus.” Your mom & dad are Santa Claus” I remember quite well the day that Terry told me the news as I referred to Santa Claus while playing dolls. But she was wrong. I did not hesitate to tell her that I knew better. It was only a few days earlier that I had sat in Santa’s lap while my parents were standing right there. That was proof enough. With all three in my presence it was just not possible that Mom or Dad was Santa Claus.
***
The floor would always creak right about the time you would hit the hallway right in front of Donna & Joy’s room. But I had a plan. With a spool of thread from my mom’s sewing machine, I tied the string around Donna’s big toe. That way, when I got up long before dawn to check out what was under the tree, all I had to do was pull on the string to wake Donna up. She would then wake Joy up and we would all quietly meet in the living room. So the wee hours came and I pulled the string only to find that there was no toe attached at the end. So the plan failed as we creaked our way to the Christmas tree, never knowing that we could never ever be quiet enough for Mom & Dad not to know we were up. Donna isn’t with us anymore. I can’t help but think that one day when I pass on from this world, I may awake to find her tugging on my big toe and saying, “Hey girl… wait til you see what’s under this Christmas tree!”
***
So much for Santa Claus. I always knew what Christmas was really about. As a child, I hung out in the woods a lot. Maybe it was a bit weird, but I recollect telling the trees the Christmas story…and once gluing a school picture to a letter to Jesus, wrapping it in a plastic cleaner bag and burying it. All it said was Happy Birthday Jesus. Remember me. Months later I dug it back up just to see if he got it. Maybe nature destroyed it; maybe it was eaten by bugs. It wasn’t there. It doesn’t matter. I look back on the years… yes, Jesus has remembered me.
Happy Birthday Jesus!
posted by MindBloggling | 12:05 PM
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