A Picture Of Christmas

A picture of Christmas

“Wake UP, it’s Christmas,” daddy called tapping out  Christmas tunes on the bedroom door. “Every body up.”
“Daddy, it is four AM,” I whined back. “Come on give us a break, can’t this wait a couple more hours? You are all together too cheery this morning.”
“Somebody got what they asked for, Santa brought it with him and it’s covering everything.”  Dad teased.
“Oh my gosh ,” I shrieked jumping out of bed to open the curtains. “It  snowed I can’t believe it, get the kids up.”
“I told you I ordered it last week,” dad laughed making his way down the  hall to the kids room.
As I was busy getting dressed  to go play in the snow I could hear the shrieks and laughter of the children as they ran down stairs , daddy close on their heels.  He was helping Nikki and Nick my two youngest pull on their jackets, hats, boots, and mittens, at the same time laughing at Lisa and Shannon who were trying to balance themselves as they pulled on coats and mittens while trying to step into their boots all at the same time.
“Cold Oh Cold, “ I heard daddy complaining as he swept the children out the back door realizing he had forgotten his shoes. Squeals of excitement reached the kitchen where a pot of coffee had begun to brew and the cinnamon rolls made just last night had found their way into the oven for warming before adding swirls of glistening white glaze. Magic filled the house as daddy danced the children back through the kitchen and under the tree.
It was  early Christmas morning 1986. We had just moved home from living in Key West Florida for more than eight years. The moon shone from the star studded sky like a spotlight on the fresh snow that had mantled the neighborhood sometime during the night. Thick white glistening blankets of snow draped the houses, and trees, while covering any evidence of where streets and yards met.
My father and my grandmother owned a small general store,  for weeks before Christmas they would find out who was having a hard time. Then on Christmas Eve he would fill the car and spend the evening delivering boxes of  food, blankets, toys or  what ever a  family might be in need of, trying so hard to remain anonymous. Then at four AM he would begin calling neighbors heralding in Christmas, my guess is his calls reached those he felt needed it most.
As the stockings were emptied, one Santa gift after another, these pictures were taken. This picture is of my father, with hair barrettes all through his hair, dancing around the living room with two small children and myself. Giggles and laughter, Christmas music, the snapping of a fire in the fireplace, the aroma of fresh brewed coffee and sticky rolls, the magic of a family together for the holidays. The memories of those Christmases past, of my childhood, and of that wonderful man so full of Christmas joy flooded back with each picture.  My brother and I didn’t have much in the way of a religious background, our mother came from Providence  RI where she had been raised Seventh Day Adventist, my father ‘s father came from away and was raised a Christian Scientist, but for the rest of us we had a tiny Island Methodist Church  that rarely had a full time pastor. When we did my brother and I went to Sunday School every week. I only remember a few years our church was opened for Christmas, but when it was we had beautiful pageants.  I think the him that is my father must have created Christmases the HIM that we celebrate Christmas to honor  would have  approved of . Full of joy and giving, for the greatest of all gifts is love.
I decorate each year, bake cookies, and whoopee pies, make fudge, needhams, and chocolate covered cherries. We take small Christmas bags or baskets to our neighbors with bread fresh from the oven and other Christmas baked goods, just as he had always done. When I think of Christmas, I see my father  the greatest lover of Christmas I had ever known. I never knew exactly what caused him to love Christmas so but I have a hunch it started with his father who would never tolerate any person to go without. I lost my father to pancreas cancer on December 26 1990 at 3:18 AM after spending a joyous Christmas day with him, laughing and watching the Christmas lights reflecting in his ice blue eyes. Christmas comes with mixed feelings for me, but as long as this body is able I will decorate and celebrate Christmas as much like he did as I can.