I drove through the night. Snow was falling like the steady rain of summer storm. As the yellow dividing line disappeared under the white fluff, so did the dark paving of the highway. I was traveling as fast as I dared, which wasn’t fast enough. The headlights illuminated the snow as it pelted my car giving the illusion that I was driving through an avalanche of stars.
I was headed to my momma’s house for Christmas.
Christmas at momma’s house: the anticipation, the excitement. Remember? There’s an ease to it, a comfort. It’s childhood and cookies and surprises: memories flooding the mind.
At that time, my momma’s Christmas tree was decorated beautifully with ornaments both old and new, standing proudly in the living room. I can see it in my minds eye filling the corner by the front door, the lights glowing with a beauty that’s hard to match at other other time of the year.
On this particular night I wanted to be at her house desperately. But the snow was slowing me down. I was scared and frustrated. But I kept going. Moving forward with caution.
When finally I arrived in Arlington, Kentucky—in the wee hours of the morning, after an arduous journey from Bearcreek Farms in Indiana—I was met with an excitement I could actually feel in the air. For you see that was the year my aunt Cindy and her family spent Christmas at my momma’s house. I’ve seen my mom very happy on Christmas Eve and on Christmas Day many many times—she has a childlike joy during the Christmas season—but that year was like a Brady Bunch Christmas. And as crowded and chaotic as it sounds like it could have been, it wasn’t.
It was amazing.
I quietly walked into the house to find the living room floor strewn with blankets covering sleeping bodies, pillows supporting resting heads. Aunt Cindy awoke as did momma. They came into the living room where my sister, April, and cousins, Casey and Whit, had all stirred awake from a half slumber under those blankets. We sat talking in the glow of the white Christmas tree lights: alive, awake, happy. It couldn’t have been more special.
The snow fell that night. And Santa delivered his presents. The house was warm and filled with love. I don’t think the lights on that Christmas tree have ever been more dazzling.
Time spent together with the first people who love you is special and as we get older that time becomes more rare...and even more precious.
As Christmas morning approaches take a second to step outside and feel the magic in the air on the Eve. Look at all the beauty. See it...before it disappears. Laugh, hug, eat, tell stories. Remember.
Merry Christmas
