Tales Of Christmases Past

 

Photo by: Omar Ramadan (@omarvellous14) | Unsplash Photo Community

“Grandma, they’re here!” said an excited Kenna as she jumped down from the chair and scampered to the door.

“Merry Christmas!” squealed the twins, Rose and Alice as they burst through the door. 

“They wait for no one,” laughed their mother, Jan. “Hi mom. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” said Ben from behind an arm full of presents.

“Merry Christmas. Let me take those Ben,” said Sheila.

“Ok. There are more.”

“More presents,” squealed the three kids who ran off chattering a mile a minute.

“Merry Christmas,” Olivia called from the kitchen.

“What’s left to do?” asked Jan as she walked into the kitchen.

“It’s all done,” Olivia replied. “Time to relax. 

“Where are Dad and Tim?” 

“Out in the back kitchen. Tim asked Dad’s advice on something and they disappeared quickly. I don’t imagine they will be long. Neither has a coat on and it is freezing out there.”

The back door opened and they stepped in.

“I remember a Christmas with weather like this,” Jacob, Olivia and Jan’s father said. “The weather was just as miserable and the snow piled up higher than today. My grandfather got all dressed up and started out to hunt for a turkey. He had been putting food down near the woods so they would stick around. He had to check on a couple of animals that were about to give birth in the barn first. Well one thing led to another and there was no turkey, Grandfather never made it to the field. After that year he set a trap out in the cornfield when it was warmer and captured a wild turkey so they would have one for Christmas.

“He didn’t dress it then did he?”

“He clipped its wings and kept it in a pen for a while. He couldn't risk my grandma’s ire two years in a row.”

“It’s nice to hear those stories. I can get a sense of where your parents came from, and yourself of course,” said Tim. 

“We always talk about them, Tim,” replied Sheila, Jacobs' wife.

“Mom, I think what he is saying is that you tell us all kinds of stories about everyday life but we don’t hear much when it comes to Christmas.”

“Well,” she chuckled, “It only comes once a year but I hear what you are saying. Let’s get something to drink. Then we can talk.” 

As they settled into the chairs around the living room Sheila started.

“One year we went to Aunt Greta’s house for Christmas. She baked like there was no tomorrow. Lot’s of homemade treats that you don’t see much of anymore. No one has the time. Anyway, time comes around for the turkey to be removed from the oven. She pulled it out and took the lid off the pan. The smoke drifting up should have been the first clue.” 

“Was it still edible?” inquired Olivia.

“Let’s say It was enough to turn even the most dedicated of meat lovers into vegetarians. Or at least cousin Carol who lost more than her cookies just looking at the charred fowl.”

“I like this,” said Ben. “Even though that may have been a disaster, it makes a great family story.”

“Just like what happens here today will make great stories when I get older,” stated Rose.

Everyone gave pause at this statement. 

“So tell us something else,” said Kenna

“Of course there were also terrible times at Christmas, most of which need to be forgotten but there was the time when Uncle Tom took his morning constitutional and well, let’s say there was one less place needed at the table that Christmas night.” Grandma sighed with the memory of her brother.

“And then there were those days when everyone who was coming over for Christmas had to pitch in and even take over because we came down with the flu.  Christmas had to go on for the kids.”

“It was a quiet but loving Christmas.” reflected Jan.

Sheila continued, ”Then there was Aunt Sue and Uncle Joe who never heard a word they couldn’t comment on. Condescending they were. But on Christmas Day they were the nicest people one could ever want to meet. All of their normal conversations were set aside to create a warm and loving environment for their kids and then anyone else who happened to be there. It was indeed a Merry Christmas every year.” 

“One year it snowed so much that it looked like Christmas was going to get washed out. Drifts, as high as the house. I was throwing snow to only have it fall back down on me. I had to make tunnels everywhere which made travelling to the outhouse a perfect joy!” reflected Jacob.

“There was a year of bitter cold, so cold that on the drive to my brother’s house,” said Sheila, “the engine in the car worked but the heater couldn’t keep the cold from entering. Everyone had a blanket wrapped around them to shield them from the cold. It was a brutal 3 hour drive.”

Olivia reflected. “There was the year when Uncle John never showed up on Christmas Eve or even Christmas morning. When he arrived late in the afternoon he had a large cut and a bandage on his arm. Stitches were involved but that was the last we heard about it.”

“We heard,” reflected Sheila. “Too much eggnog at a party and a disagreement. He learned from that day. Sort of.”

“Most years we all gathered around the kitchen table and played cards, or board games before the length of the day caught up to us. Sometimes there would be 20 people all laughing and trying to win.”

“Uncle Tony cheated!” declared Olivia. 

“He wasn’t the only one,” replied Jan with a direct look at her father who held up his hands in a “no I didn’t” move accompanied by a smile.

“Well, it’s time for supper,” said Sheila as everyone moved to the kitchen to put the finishing touches for the food to arrive at the table.

“I think I know why Christmas Stories were never shared before,” said Sheila after everyone had gone home.

“Oh? Why is that?” asked Jacob`

“It’s too painful. Those memories, even the bad ones were so full of love that remembering them hurts. There are so many people no longer here to create new memories. I miss them terribly at this time of year.” A tear crawled down her cheek.

“Yes,” reflected Jacob, “but we are creating new memories for our granddaughters. That has to count for something.”

Jacob walked over to the sink and gave her a hug. Sheila melted into his arms seeking the comfort she had felt all those years ago. She sniffled softly. “It’s not enough,” she said, “but it is the best I have.” She snuggled in for more warmth.