Christmas 2019

Christmas is my most favorite time of the year. It’s not about the gifts, its not about the work involved in getting things ready, its about the family and loved ones gathered together at that most special time. It’s about the sparkle in a child’s eye that Christmas morning when they hurry in to see what Santa brought.

I took Hardy to the hospital in Florence this past week for tests and as we were riding home, I asked him how Christmas was for him growing up. If you know him, you probably know he and Laura, his sister, went to live with relatives at an early age. Their mother had medical issues that prevented her from being able to care for them and their father was in the military. At first they lived with their maternal grandparents and later with their aunt and uncle, whom were Donny’s grandparents.

Hardy’s Christmas’ were usually fruit, candy, a pair of pants, shirt and maybe shoes. They never received toys except once, he got a bb gun and Laura, a doll with a stroller. He remembered most that Laura, two years older, was so happy as she pushed her stroller all over the place. Choking back tears, I concluded how tough it must have been on two small children, estranged from their parents growing up with older people who believed that necessities were all that mattered. I know people did the best they could back then, just like my parents. We never received expensive things but mom and dad always made sure that Santa Claus came. Mom was really great about trying to make things as special as she could, making popcorn and hot chocolate for us. I remember she cooked it in a pot on the stove, using Carnation milk which made it so creamy and delicious. We always left some out for Santa, along with cake and he ate it too. She decorated with pine cones, greenery and red berries from outside and the tree was covered with silver icicles and tinsel. We never had white lights, it was the big ones with all the colors. My most favorite Christmas’ were in Thomasville. Bonnie and I would lie on our bed upstairs and look at the sky to see if we saw Santa and his sled. I don’t know what it was that made the magic in the sky but there were many times that we were sure we saw him. Early the next morning, we bounded down the stairs and went straight to our box. Mine and Melinda’s were identical, but my things were blue and hers, pink. Bonnie was a little older, so her things would be different, Gary, being the only boy and Debbie as the youngest were easy to spot.

Mom decorates in a tacky, old fashioned way, but I just let it be. I make a pretty arrangement only to find that she has added her own addition. It never matches but she loves it and that is all that matters to me. Now the “old house” is my own creations, and I love it. I prepare the house for our family gatherings and when she walks in, she is in awe. She loves the pretty lights and themes, When someone comments about how pretty it looks, she will tell them, “You should see what I did, it is just beautiful!” It really is Mom, because you did it and I thank God that he has given you another year with us, so you can let your little light shine.