A Christmas Story

I wrote this a few years ago. Some of you may have seen in on my Facebook page at that time.

I really do like it, though… so I thought I’d share it again.

* * *

 

I’ve watched for years from my place in the tree.

I’ve watched boxes of cordial cherries empty as if by magic and batches of fudge and carefully painted candies be packed into pretty boxes.  I’ve watched them dance around different living rooms singing Christmas carols.  And I’ve watched the sleepy-eyed daughter become the sleepy-eyed mother with four sleepy-eyed daughters of her own.

Every year, for the last several, the daughters have marveled when the mother pulls me from my sleeping place: in awe of my apparently very old age and, probably more amazing, the way the mother’s eyes light up when they start trying to find me a place on the tree.

I’m almost always one of the first of the old ones to find my branch.  It’s hard to say why, but that’s how it goes… and I must confess, I rather like it that way.  The lights on the tree sparkle in the mother’s eyes, you see, and I am reminded of the way her eyes used to shine when we were both much younger: when there was more joy and magic in her every day than work, pain, or fatigue.

Some days are better than others and some are worse: some days she’s dancing around singing to herself and others she’s forcing her face to smile to hide the pain in her body or heart from the smiling face requesting a hug.

The other old ones and I seem to possess a particular magic, though…

No matter how hard the day has been, how her body aches, or how she tries to fight back tears while the rest of the house sleeps, we are able to make her eyes sparkle.  If only for a moment, less time than it takes for one of the lights to blink, she smiles.  The expression might not even make it all the way to her lips but it shows in her eyes and I, for one, am always glad to see it.

The time will come, far too soon, when the other old ones and I will go back to sleep.  I wonder if the mother, our precious sleepy-eyed little girl, realizes we dream of her while we wait…

* * *

There may be a regularly scheduled post in a few weeks… or not. It’s hard to guess how the holidays are going to go.

Until next time, friends… especially if next time doesn’t come until next year…

May all the love and warmth and joy be yours and may whatever Holidays are yours be the Happiest!

One thought on “A Christmas Story”

  1. Was just wondering where my copy of this was. Thank you for posting it. It truly is lovely.
    And I’d say that even if I wasn’t your mother.

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