Countdown to Christmas: Day One

In honor of Christmas in just ONE WEEK, I'm going to be sharing my favorite Christmas memories these next few days! And I don't want to be the only one talking. Comment with one of your favorite stories, or email me at katydidwhatblog@gmail.com. You know you want to!

Some are funny, some are sweet, (I don't think any are sad), and as a preface to these stories: They are all the way I remember them now. I'm sure my family would love to argue with me on the details. . .

~~Christmas music is crooning out of the speakers of the CD player: Now fast sleigh bells, now slow falling snow. The Christmas tree lights are glowing cheerfully on my sister and I as we dance to the music. The silver beads my mother loves to drape around the tree are wrapped around us. Glistening silver gowns, intricately beaded. I am spinning, making the ends of my strand whirl in the colored lights. Sparkles of red, green, and yellow are bursting from the beads as they clink and clatter.

My mom cautions us not to break them as we fight and laugh, wrap and rewrap our little bodies in those gown beads. We are beautiful, grown up ladies, waiting for a Christmas ball.

Finally, mom extricates the beads from our grasp and strings them on the tree. For a moment, I am sad not to feel their coolness on my skin, but they are not the only delight sprung free of their boxes for a few weeks. Ornaments, Christmas bags and holiday baubles litter the house, waiting to be displayed. A red, wire candy dish shaped like a bell balances on the stairs, still seeming to hold the sweet smell of Christmas candy from last year. Our old wooden nativity waits in a tattered Pampers box to be set out. The angel held on to the roof by a loose, bent nail. My hands love the feel of the rough-hewn wood. Of the old pieces of hay glued onto the top, barely any remaining after the wear and tear of little fingers playing. Mom cautions us not to lose the Baby Jesus.

I am safe as if wrapped up tight in a cozy blanket. I feel I could hold my whole cozy home in my hands, and also as if  it  is new and unexplored, holding surprises in every corner. I am fresh and young, only a few Christmases to remember, yet ancient with the knowledge of all the Christmases past. Back to a hut of rough hewn wood. Back to a night that is redolent with the presence of angels and stars singing of the Christ child come.

I am careful not to lose Baby Jesus. ~~