Christmas to us means a family gathering and it's a big deal for our small family. Gifts fill a large portion of our daughter's living room. There are huge stockings for each and every one, stuffed by various Santas over the previous week or two. It usually takes several hours as we open gifts one by one, going round and round the room in turns.
I'm often reminded of Christmas when I was a child. My earliest memories are of journeying from Wichita to Arkansas to be with my grandparents on my mother's side. Grandma would have stockings for all the children and in them would be an orange, a handful of ribbon candy, a couple of small toys. My grandmother remembered the Depression and lived thriftily as if she expected that to happen again at any moment. So there was not the abundance of presents like we have today.
It often occurs to me that perhaps we ought to go back to those ways. Those early Christmases when the emphasis was on visiting, telling stories, singing and enjoying a meal together are so special in my memories. Maybe it's just because I miss the people, most of whom are gone. Only us kids remain and we're all growing old ourselves. We seldom see each other, as we're all busy with our own core families.
Still, as each Christmas rolls around, I get wrapped up in the joy of it. The celebration of the holiday, the gathering together. Eating daughter's cheesecake and granddaughter's special mashed potatoes that her dad won't eat because she puts garlic in them. Cutting another wedge of pecan pie cause it is, after all, Christmas. There's something special from our grandson who collects gourmet recipes and often prepares one himself.
Come to think of it, things aren't so different after all. We visit and laugh, someone picks up a guitar and we sing. And there we are making memories for them to recall in future years.
About the Author:
Find the author online at
Where to buy her books: http://www.tinyurl.com/7dr9mbn