“I wish we could put up some of the Christmas spirit in jars and open a jar of it every month.” ~Harlan Miller
I’ve been posting Holiday Guest Blogs as they came in and I want to thank everyone who has contributed so far, including those of you who have reached out to me asking for a slot. It’s never too late to send in your submissions, I will be posting until the first week of January, so if you’re interested in sharing your story with us use the contact form in the menu bar at the top. I’ve enjoyed reading your stories just as much as my followers have.
But I would be remiss if I didn’t share a few memories of my own about the season.
I really don’t remember when or why I fell in love with Christmas, maybe it came from being the first granddaughter in the family or maybe it was because I was THE only granddaughter in the family for a whole lotta years, twelve or so to be exact. Growing up in a fairly large family gave me certain privileges, a spot under the tree on Christmas Eve, the perfect spot on my grandmother’s lap during story time and the best place around the fire while roasting corn under the harvest moon. Yup! Being first has its privileges.
“The best of all gifts around any Christmas tree: the presence of a happy family all wrapped up in each other.” ~ Burton Hills
My earliest memories of Christmas was receiving a life-size doll from one of my uncles, I was 7 or 8 at the time. Then there were the books from my youngest aunt, they came around 10 and kept on coming up to the time I went off to college. Even now she still asks what book I’ve read lately and gives recommendations for reading. Then there was the little pink dress with lace down the front from my eldest aunt and little white purse with pearls on the front from my mum, I was 10 years old when tore through the wrapping of both those gifts. I just love the smell of wrapping paper. Don’t you?
“There is nothing in the world so irresistibly contagious as laughter and good humour” ~Charles Dickenson
But the magic didn’t end there. Our home was not a musical one, other than the whistling of my grandfather or my grandmother humming a tune. But beginning the first week of December while she was cleaning house, my Mum pulled out her vinyls, Nat King Cole, Mahalia Jackson, Stevie Wonder, Bing Crosby, Gladys Knight, all the greats, belted through walls of our home with my brothers and I singing out of tune at the top of our voices. All of this excitement was before the formal decorations or tree went up. But in the air, there was the feeling of Christmas; the smells would come later with the scent of ham boiling on the stove, turkey roasting in the oven, fruit cakes and coconut bread permeating our little space.
Even without a calendar, this is how we knew Christmas was on its way and we knew these luxuries came but once a year. But once was enough because we would exist another year in anticipation of Christmas, the gifts and sweeties that came with the season.
©Etta D. Richards