Christmas past

 I was so excited I could barely sit still. It was always the same. Even though I saw all of these people on a regular basis there was something about gathering together on this day that was extra special.

It was almost always cold enough to make your fingers and toes numb and the tip of your nose turn bright red. If we were lucky there would be a light dusting of snow turning the ordinary neighborhood into a place of wonder and magic.

The house was tiny, only 2 small bedrooms, but somehow on this day (and any other that my Pop decided we should gather as a family) the walls seemed to expand just enough so that we all "fit". It was snug but nobody seemed to notice.

The tree was real with a string of lights with bulbs so big they put 40 watt bulbs to shame.  There was tinsel that sparkled and made a huge mess. The needles always seemed to drop onto the carpet. But it was beautiful.

Everyone was there, no one dared not to be. If you weren’t speaking to someone then you had best hang the grievance on the bush beside the backdoor when you arrived. There was no problem. You could always retrieve it on your way out. Even mu-mu (mama’s mother) would come as she was widowed when I was about 6. There were aunts, uncles and cousins as well as grandparents to laugh and exchange gifts with.

The kitchen table would almost creak from the weight of the food. My grandmother, aunts and my mama would all crowd into that tiny kitchen and cook up a storm. Some of the best memories of my childhood are centered around that kitchen table and my grandmother’s cooking.

The windows would fog up from all of the bodies in the house combined with the warmth of the furnace. It was a warm safe place. There was not a doubt in my mind that every single person in that house loved me.

When I think of Christmas this is the place my  heart goes. The sights and sounds and oh the smells flood my heart. The image has the sharpness of a watercolor, soft and fluid. Some of it is due to the way the mind records events so that reality is softened by the desires of the heart to only remember the wonderful things while skimming over all the rest. Some of it is because I view these lovely memories through tears.

Merry Christmas to all of those people who have filled my memories……and my heart.