It’s Christmas time, and it is always a sad time for me because I am no longer a child with parents. My parents are both gone. I’ve lost a sister now, and though we weren’t close as adults, I still loved her so. I have regrets about not mending our relationship long before she passed. When I found out she was sick I rushed to be with her. We apologized for our stupidity, and I spent the next months with her when time allowed. I lost a friend the other day, one I cared deeply for. I hadn’t spoken to them in a while, but still. Memories are all that is left of these long ago relationships. Good ones of course.
It is funny how memories are, mine at least. It is like the mind wants to repair the wrongs, and leave you with just the good memories. It packs away the sad events, the horror, or the pain, and leaves you with the good times. Oh, sure I can dredge up every single negative thing that ever happened in my lifetime. But what good does that do me? None I assure you. Regret is such a poor bedfellow. Nope, for me, I will remember the good times. I will choose joy.
Always when given a choice on what to dwell on, choose joy. Often when I can not fall asleep, I walk through the homes of my childhood in my mind. I remember the little details of the creaks in the floor, the doo dads that made our house a home. The wooden coffee tables, and the vases of sometimes very old flowers. The walls and the curtains that hung in every room. I can even conjure up the smells of each season as they passed through our home. My memory for such things is so clear. I walk back through my family home at Christmas time, the excitement brimming just beneath the surface. My daddy loved Christmas, even though he had eight children to provide for. I remember believing in Santa Claus, and the Christmas carols we sang together. We put on little Christmas musicals for our parents. There was joy, even though there was not a lot of money to spend.
I can remember my grandmother’s house at Christmas. Though we were rarely there during the holidays, I do remember one Christmas spent there. All the chattering the adults would do, while the children drifted off to sleep with the sound of their laughter filling our heads. The rare snows we had in the winters of my youth. I can see my first ever snow, I was seven. It was Christmas Eve, and we were moving from one state to another. All eight children sang Christmas carols with our mama as she drove. We marvelled at the lights in the yards as we drove north, wondering who lived in the house, and what was going on in their lives at the moment. When we arrived at our destination, it was snowing hard. A Christmas miracle to all of us, who had never even laid eyes on snow. I remember that night as if it were last night, and all of the wonder that the next day held in store for us. Gosh, I loved that night.
Now that I am older and all of the people who made that night special are gone, I am left with only the memory. The sights and sounds are burned into my soul, and even today can bring a smile. If I close my eyes I can still hear my mother’s sweet voice singing with us. She had a beautiful voice. Oh how I loved her when I was seven, and even still. As I begin the celebration of the holidays with my own family, I hope I am laying down memories for them that will suffice when I am gone. I hope one day they will lay in their beds and walk through our family home, remembering the love we had for one another, and the joy that we chose to share with one another.
Merry Christmas everyone. May this season bring you joy and happiness, and may you make memorie that will last you a lifetime, and live on long after you are gone. Be blessed.
peace 😀 shemelts