My little Christmas story Read online

Christmas Morning

  As she expected, the children wake her and Pops very early, before it's light out. They don't want to wait to open packages, but Gloria makes them wait until after breakfast, something they used to always do, and something her mother did, though Gloria had thought she wouldn't be able to make them this year, the Christmas pancakes. They're just more or less ordinary pancakes, made in Christmas shapes, whether it be trees, or stars, or occasionally something they can only guess what it might be, maybe it's a lamb, maybe it's a donkey, they can't tell, but have fun trying to figure it out.

  After breakfast, the melee begins, the children grab a package and open it, deciding after it's opened who's it is. The look on Tommy's face is funny when he opens a package containing a large doll. "Tommy, look at the tags, don't they say who they're for?"

  "That's no fun, we like it this way."

  "Okay, if you insist." Tommy quickly trades the doll with Molly for a Tonka truck. The children received everything on Gloria's wish list, and then some, she hadn't included too many frivolous things like battery operated toys, but they got quite a few of those too. Yet another package solves the accompanying problem, batteries for them all. They get batteries all right, but these are the rechargeable kind with a charger for all sizes of batteries. Gloria suspects Sarah had a hand or two in that little gadget, she's frugal, but never cheap or stingy.

  When there are no more presents to open, the children quietly clean up the mess without being asked, they're being careful with the ribbons and colorful paper. Why they're on their best behavior after they've received their presents puzzles Gloria. When they've cleaned things up, they look to Pops, he herds them out to the barn, each one has some used wrapping paper and ribbons in hand. He says nothing to Gloria, but his wide grin as they're marching out tells her all she needs to know at the moment.

  Gloria relaxes with a third cup of coffee, a luxury she hasn't allowed herself recently, since she was trying to stretch what they had. Whoever thought of it, put in plenty of coffee, and not a cheap variety, it's a well-known brand that makes a great tasting, rich brew.

  Gloria happens to see through the window, the children and her dad are leaving the barn. Susan, her oldest, and Tommy are toting a rather large, box wrapped in many colors of paper held on by many different ribbons. Dad has Molly by the hand, they're all smiles as they enter the house.

  Susan, being the oldest, gets the job of presenting the gift to her mother. "Mom, this is from all of us, including Pops. We hope you really like it, though we're smart enough to know you'll say you do, even if you don't. Please, don't lie to us, if you don't like it, say so."

  "Honey, you won't understand until you're grown and have children of your own, but you're my children, I'll love whatever it is."

  "That's what I mean, Mom, don't tell us you love it just because we made it, love it or don't, but because it deserves it or it don't. All right?"

  "Oh, all right, I'll be honest with you, but I still love that you tried to do anything."

  "Okay Mom." She helps Tommy set the big box in front of her, on the floor, near her, it's nearly as tall as a coffee table, and about as long and wide, but it's a solid box, not a table. Gloria peels the wrapping paper off, little by little. There's beautiful wood underneath the wrapping that still smells of fresh varnish.

  When she gets it unwrapped completely, she sees it's a box with a hinged lid, the words Mom's Memory Box are hand lettered in a childish scrawl on top, in a bright red paint usually reserved for tractors. Gloria opens the latch on the front, then slowly pushes the top up and back. Leather straps that appear to be made from old boots keep it from opening too far. She notices the hinges are made of the carefully cut and varnish-glistening old leather too.

  The box itself is quite a present, it's obviously hand made, and carefully done, with what was available around the old farm. However, inside the box are many things Gloria recognizes. Her old baseball glove, some jacks, an old doll she used to tote everywhere, are among the things in the box, but what catches her eyes now are four picture albums. She tries to go through one of them, but can't, the pictures of days long gone, many of them with her mother, leave her eyes too tearful to look at anything more, but the children insist, so as soon as she can dry her eyes, she goes through the next book. This one is of her, the young children, and their father. Some of it is their own artwork, other pages are filled with photographs she'd sent her mother years ago. Gloria can take no more now, the other two books will have to wait, she pulls her children tight to her, and looks to her dad, "I really do love it, I really do, but that's all I can take at one time. I'll have to save the rest for later."

  Molly looks up at her, "That's okay Mom, the other two books are to fill with things from now, to remember later. Just then a flash goes off, Sarah has snuck in the back door, she's taking pictures with her old Polaroid camera, grinning from ear to ear like she always does. She hands some of the pictures to Gloria, "Here honey, that will start the fresh albums."