There are only a few days until Christmas and I feel nostalgic. I’m especially so this year as I think back to my childhood memories. I loved it when Daddy would bring home a real Christmas tree and our tiny 900-foot square house on Tindolph Avenue would smell of pine needles in every room.
We’d decorate the tree with old-fashioned large lights and glass Christmas ornaments. The tree took up at least one quarter of the living room, but that didn’t matter to a kid. Things are always bigger when you’re young.
My Christmas pageant dress
Mom would sew me a new dress for the church Christmas pageant. One year it was orange, brown and red flowers, not your typical Christmas garb.
On Christmas Eve after Daddy read the Christmas story from the Bible, my sister and I would act out the story to entertain our parents. The dog was a sheep and I played Mary (that’s me on the floor). Our stuffies became the three wise men and my doll was the baby Jesus.
We always took turns opening our presents; that way the excitement lasted longer. I always seemed to get a Barbie-related toy and no one could go wrong giving me a panda bear.
I know my Daddy loved Christmas because after all the presents were opened, he would leave the room and come back with a present for my sister and I that he “forgot” to put under the tree.
One year we got a unique gift called the Flatsie doll. When I pull them out today, I remember the joy it brought my Daddy to see his girls thrilled by a surprise gift. We posed for pictures with our gifts surrounding us and Mom made sure we wrote thank you cards to everyone.
Celebrating… in Heaven
This year with my Daddy celebrating in Heaven, I think I’ll continue his tradition and bring out a gift after all are opened for my adult children. I hope they are as surprised as I was and cherish the memory.