Merry Christmas?...

Last night, while Reading The Giver by Lois Lowry  I was thinking about Christmas. you know how a memory comes to you out of nowhere, and in a split second you can see like, an hours' worth of time go by? vivid as can be? and you kind of blink to yourself like, woah. i totally remember that! That was me last night. some random memory crept up to the front of my brain just for a moment, so i scribbled down the happy little memory in my journal. Here you go now, off into the pensieve:

It's almost Christmas. It's late at night and we're all huddled in the living room. It's cold, I wish I could say that snow was falling, but I've never had a white Christmas. But it's cold, you can see it on the foggy windows and feel it in the rooms at the farthest ends of the house.

I know I'm young because I'm wrapped in one of the old blankets. One of Grandmom's. the orange one with the blue tufts of yarn. I'm wrapped up in it, which means I'm younger than eight, because at 8 Grandmom made me my own quilt. The one with stars on one side and patches with buttons on one side and stars on the other. I also know that it's before Allison's wedding, because I'm laying on carpet. and we didn't get the tile until right before Allison's wedding. I must have been pretty young, because it seems like all 10 of us are there, too. just the ten of us.

It's dark in the room. to my left is the fireplace, ablaze and warm, making the room cozy. I'm laying in front of the piano. The candy lights that my mom made from sandwich containers and colored plastic wraps over a strand of Christmas lights is on the wall. And as usual, the half of the strand stretching into the kitchen is blinking. making an ever-so-faint "Tink" each time the lights go out. Next to the back door is the Christmas tree. It seems huge because I am so small. and it is magnificent! Tall and wide, strung with twinkling lights: REd, Purple, Blue, Green, Yellow, Pink and Orange dots smile at me from behind the ornaments.

The ones at the top are my mom's. Glass and Beautiful. Breakable. The ones in the middle are the older kids'. les intimidating, but still better than mine, dangling from the bottom of the tree. handmade. My favorite was a walnut shell with a tiny plastic baby under a small piece of felt, it was the baby Jesus.
We all had matching ornaments, too. beaded bells made by our great grandmother, gold angels on clouds with our birthdays and names engraved in them. and the paper angels. We made them as a family activity one year. All were the same paper dollies made to look like angels, glues to a white clothespin so it can clip to the tree, and each had the face of the owner taped onto it. I was Jealous of Rebecca's, Regal and perfect.

I loved our tree. I could stare at it for hours. all the shining colors reflecting off the gold star at the top. It captivated me. The presents beneath were wrapped in colorful paper and tied with glistening ribbon. I knew which packaged were from Grandmom and Grandad, because they were shaped like books and topped with huge handmade bows. Just looking at the gifts made me ansy.

It was storytime.

We have a "book" - a big white binder- than my Dad's aunt Jean made for us. There are 23 stories in it. Every day, starting with December first, we read a story and on Christmas Eve we act out the Nativity. Each story was different, but they all shared the same messages of the Savior, Love and Christmas Spirit. Everyone has their favorite, too. Katrina's is 'a brother like that', mom loves the one with the canyon boots, Mine is 'The Christmas Orange'.
Every night , before the story started we all got to light a candle. Mom helped me light my favorite. The one with the mouse in a stocking cap sleeping in front of a fireplace. 10 candles flickered, making dancing shadows on the wall. We sing a Carol, we sound good together. and we all settle snugly into our spots, listening to our mother reading tonight's story. Her voice blends perfectly with the crackling fire and the wind rustling outside. We've all heard the story before, but we're holding our breath. Mom's voice catches in the same emotional place. I close my eyes. I can smell the pine needles on the tree, and the wood in the fire. I can smell the vineyard because my head is resting on Dad's arm. I am warm and content there in our little living room.

the story is over, we sing another Christmas Carol before we pray. then we blow out our candles, brush our teeth and try to avoid going to bed. But eventually we're herded to our rooms after we've changed into our pajamas and Dad has braided my hair. I'm falling asleep. My feet are cold, but it's a cozy cold. I can already hear Jenae's tiny snore near me. I close my eyes again and i can picture the living room, soft and inviting. The tree, the lights, the smells. and as the fire pops from down the hall I fall asleep smiling to myself.



I remembered that all in a brief moment yesterday and I scurried to write it down, in case it doesn't show up in my head again. I don't want to forget something that happy, you know?

-Mel