Wednesday, December 18, 2019
Silent Night Nancy M Bell
To find out more about Storm's Christmas and other books by Nancy please click on the cover.
Christmas festivities change over the years. When we're young things are so simple.
We always put the tree up on December 20th as that was my birthday. Mom and Dad never wanted to put the tree up earlier than that as we always had a real tree and they worried that it would dry out.
We had these really cool bubble lights that were all different colors but got really hot when you left them on too long. There was a fluffy white angel on top.
One Christmas Eve when we were still outside in the driveway just getting out of the car Wendy and I got a huge surprise. There, coming down the Cooney’s driveway, who were our next door neighbors, was Santa Claus!
We both screamed and then bolted for the back door. If Santa came while were still up and awake he wouldn’t leave us anything. We tore through the back door into the kitchen and down the back hall to the bedroom. With our wet snow boots and coats still on Wendy and I scrambled into bed and pulled the covers over our heads. I had a harder time getting into bed as I had to climb up into the top bunk, but I made it. Mom and Dad came in and tried to get us to take off our coats and boots and change into night clothes. Wendy and I wouldn’t budge, we were pretending to be asleep so that Santa would leave our presents. We were sure that he was coming to our house any moment because we KNEW he just next door and he hadn’t been to our house next. He must have already been to Jo-anne and John Lee’s place because they lived on the other side of the Cooneys, so we had to be next. Mom and Dad must have removed our boots after we were asleep because they were gone in the morning. And Santa did leave our presents for us that year.
Then we get older and things get a little more complicated. Boyfriends and eventually husbands enter the scene and there are now two families with sometimes conflicting traditions to juggle. And then babies come, and bring with them a whole new dimension to the planning and logistics of the holidays. Somehow we survive the chaos and suddenly the babies aren't babies anymore. They grow up and acquire girlfriends and obligations beyond out small family circle. The years pass so quickly it's hard to fathom the reality of it.
And then our family circle grows smaller as children and their spouses go their own ways, often taking them far away from the home place. Though we are always together in our hearts, there is now a new meaning to Silent Night. No squeals of laughter on Christmas morning, tons of leftovers from a Christmas turkey cooked for only two. Looking down the years, I see the thread of my ancestors walking the same journey that I do, from maiden to mother to crone. Ahead of me I see the line of my descendants, walking the same journey as life spans wax and wane. There is a certain surety in the notion, the players may change but the story goes on forever.
Wishing you and yours the happiest of holiday seasons. Welcome back the light on Solstice Night.
www.nancymbell.ca
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A very lovely post. About how though things change at the bommom they remain the same, just with different roles for each player.
ReplyDeleteThanks for sharing, Nancy. :-)
ReplyDeleteLoved the story about you and your sister jumping into bed with your boots on! Lovely post. I enjoyed Storm's Refuge and highly recommend it as a warm and wonderful Christmas read. :)
ReplyDeleteChristmas certainly is the time for memories, and yours are lovely.
ReplyDeleteWhat an extremely insightful and delightful Christmas post. How many of us can look back from the silence of today into the chaos of holiday's past and wish for just one more night of turmoil. I still find myself missing my girls, and when three of them remind me (rather indignantly) that they are still very much in my present, I have a very difficult time explaining to them that it's not them I'm missing "it's my little girls", the ones who actually believed I was supermom. Thanks Nancy for the trip down memory lane, Jude
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