No, this post isn’t about books, but I am telling a story 🙂 Someone recently asked me about my favorite childhood Christmas memory. Though I have lots to choose from, one year does stand out more than the rest (warning – yes, it’s heartwarming)
My parents used to tell my brother John and me that under no circumstances were we to come downstairs after they put us to bed on Christmas Eve because if Santa saw us, all our presents would turn to coal. At five-years-old, I believed this wholeheartedly. Nonetheless, when I woke up in the middle of the night, I quietly crept down the stairs to the living room.
My mom had a hand painted platter that hung over the fireplace mantle. You know how things can look different in the dark than they do in the light of day? For whatever reason, my young brain imagined the platter as Santa’s head. I immediately ran back upstairs, certain Santa had seen me and all my gifts were now coal. Back in bed, I cried myself to sleep. At the crack of dawn, my brother bounded into my room shouting that there were presents under the tree. I literally dragged my feet all the way downstairs where my parents waited, smiles on their faces. Why be happy, all my gifts were coal? Well, as you can guess, I opened the first package, very slowly to delay the misery as long as possible, to discover a toy. Yeah, best Christmas ever. Somehow, miraculously, Santa hadn’t seen me, though I remained convinced for four more years that I’d seen him.
However you chose to celebrate the season, I hope it’s one of your best, spent filled with joy and surrounded by loved ones. If you’re like me, you still have lots more shopping to do and, no, my tree isn’t up yet. Check back with me next week, I should be more ready by then.
Warmest wishes to all,