When I think of Holiday Memories I seem to mostly remember the holidays I've spent since I've been with my husband. Christmas 1976-The year we first met, he lived alone and said he wasn't decorating or getting himself a Christmas tree. During that December, My brother-in-law was working in a nursery and as a joke before bringing over our Christmas tree, He first brought in this skimpy, tall twig with one branch on it. A true Charlie Brown Christmas tree. We all had a laugh and then they threw away this poor twiggy tree.
I picked it up and drove it over to my husbands apartment. We actually decorated it with tinsel, lights and a few sparkling trinkets and it added so much warmth to that little place, which eventually became my little place too!
I don't remember too many of my early Christmas memories. What I do remember is more from the stories I have been told. My Dad, who had contracted a heart condition from Rheumatic fever as a child, passed away 2 weeks before Christmas. I was three, my sister was nine and my brother, 12. I was told my mom was (understandably) so distraught she didn't buy presents or decorate or acknowledge that it was Christmas. My Aunt ( my Moms brothers wife) bought presents for my sister, brother and I and insisted we all come to her home for Christmas day. It is a very fond memory for my siblings. My sister told me this story when I was about 12 and that Christmas I wrote a very heartfelt letter of thanks to that Aunt who was the kindest to us in our time of need. She is still one of the sweetest people I know.
The only early memory that really is my own, Is the memory of not being able to sleep on Christmas Eve and waking up and snooping at the gifts under our tree. I recently wrote a poem about this that I am actually proud of! So, I would like to share it again for Sundays Scribblings appropriate prompt holiday memories
Tip toe barefoot undaunted by the night
darkened house lit only by Angel-light
Dry needles tinsel on faux pads of white snow
Cling to tip toes tip toes as she creeps down real low
Haunted by whispered naughtiness, she should be asleep in bed
Shhhh! Haunted by inquisitiveness, she must first peep instead
Quiet as can be, embellished surprises get a gentle shake
rustling sounds of papers echo however others do not wake
Not quite believing nonetheless conceiving this evenings magical delight
Tip toes, toes cold, tips back under warm covers finally asleep till first light
fun memory-One year our 'usual' Santa passed the job to our oldest son and was able to get a different perspective!
Sexy Memories-My 'Mr. Claus' would always get a bit naughty with me!
Wishing everyone a naughty Christmas Eve!
1 day ago