Ghost Of Christmas Past

 On chilly rapid little feet the holiday season quickly draws nigh.  I have a few days planned to celebrate this year, one at work, one with family. When I walk in the door after work, and the neighborhood is fast asleep, I turn on my little Christmas tree and it gives me a soft glowing smile. I find myself humming (and sometimes making up new verses) to traditional holiday songs. (depending on how naughty or nice I feel designates the tones of the free verse.)

I am wishing for at least one day of snow, softly falling, and cloaking the world to white. Peeking at the weather forecast I see the trend going back to warmer weather and grouching a bit.  It would be so nice...just a little snow..last year was a warm winter as well.

Tucked into my comfortable old chair I began to write a few Christmas cards to friends and family. Though it  seems weeks away, I know the last week will be a rush. Because of working overtime this week, some plans were curtailed. I will be baking next week in preparation for my holiday with family. Maybe it was a good thing I was short on grocery money last week, that made some room in the freezer.

I remember holidays with stockings hung before a fireplace, the smell of 'real' evergreen spicing the room, and the quiet peaceful lull of carols playing. They may be in my past, but not far from my heart. I have been blessed with many joyous holiday celebrations, and should not despair because the last two (including this year) were so quiet and lonely. The holidays are what you make of them. If you decide to be sad it shall be so. If it is a bittersweet day of memories then that shall be as well.

I can still recall the excitement of being a child, the need to wake up my parents in the wee hours of the morning. ( and gruffly told to "go Back to bed" as they had just gotten into bed themselves after preparing for the morning.) Having to wait at the top of the stairs, antsy with impatience along side my two brothers.
Dad would put his finger to his lips and say "Shhh, I have to make sure that Santa has left" and down the steps he would go to turn on the tree, and likely start coffee brewing. With his all clear signal we would bound down the steps to a tree surrounded by gifts from Santa, enticing stockings that bulged with hidden treasure, and the evidence that Santa had been there, the cookie with a bite gone from it. We took turns to make the unveiling last longer, prolong the gift giddiness. And someone would always pick out the ones that said Mom or Dad and carefully deliver them. That was the beginning of a long day of visiting and food at multiple stops when we lived closed to Baltimore.

Christmas at our house also meant church, that message was shared to us all from the time we could attend Sunday school, till we were young adults. The Christmas eve service has always brought me a feeling of peace and hope. Both my father and I sang in the choir for many years, and attended both services.

So I do have sweet and warm memories of years gone by. I hope someday to share the day of Joy with others once again. This Christmas my gift to myself will be Hope.

Love,
k