A Christmas Memory


This was the year my little brother Jimmy, pulled down the Christmas tree, and we knew it was over. We

being my eight brothers and sisters, and me. It

being Christmas as we’d always known loved it; the merriment, the excitement, the anticipation,and the presents. Everything! And it happened like this.


My father was given to grandiose ideas,and on those occasions, his voice rose to it’s highest pitch. That day,he had picked out the biggest tree in the world, but once he got it home discovered it wouldn’t fit through the front door. Not only that, it most likely wouldn’t fit under the ceiling in our living room, even if we could get it into the house. When he pulled into the driveway, honking and smiling; all pleased with himself, my mother ran to the car.

“Owen whatever possessed you? Oh my … Don’t you think…well, maybe you should take it back and…”
“Are you crazy? Just look at it! This is the finest tree in the city. It’s going to look spectacular in the living room!” He bounced out of the car, nearly knocking my mother into the drifts of snow along the driveway. “Let’s get to work!”
So we began. Everyone was so excited, everyone but my Mother. It was a grand tree, no doubt about it, but lugging that thing even into the State Capitol Building, downtown, would have been a challenge. My dad and the boys helped carry it through the front door, and then knowing there would be work to do, they all vanished.
“Come on there’s no fun here," Mike said."Let’s go."
Sheila had a boyfriend over and there was no getting help from her.
Carol and Mom were in the kitchen making Aunt Reet’s(Margarite) sugar cookies. They were so deliciously soft, and they had a secret ingredient, she only shared with family.
That left me with the dubious pleasure of putting the lights on, and to this day I don’t like putting on the lights. It was my father’s bright idea to tether Jimmy to the radiator in the dinning room. He was only four years-old but had to be kept on a harness for his own good. He had watched us decorate and was so fascinated with the huge green monster in the living room. If only I had known what was going on in his head maybe I could have stopped him.
Once my grandmother left the room he was like a little Houdini, slipping out of all of his restraints. I didn’t actually see him do it, but we all heard the crash once the tree fell, and we raced in to see that my brother was buried beneath it. My mom was hysterical, asking if Jimmy was okay. I think he knew he was in trouble. The ornaments broken on the wooden floor cast beautiful reflective colors. That was some consolation. We picked the tree up, and rearranged the ornaments, moving those from the back to the front. No one saw how sparse the back was since it stood up against the wall. My dad decided to fasten it to the wall with wire and I-screws. Just another chaotic day at home.
Early Christmas morning my parents informed us the front rooms were off limits till after church. The hall doors were shut; we had to stay in the kitchen since a few presents bikes, and wagons, and dolls just had bows. That was pure torture!
Getting everybody fed and dressed was a monumental task, and then escorting us one by one with our eyes closed through the front room to the car. I was old enough.They thought I wouldn’t look, but I always peeked.
Once we were all in the car we were on our way. On the road I noticed a man next to us counting all of us, and I was so embarrassed.
The church was so festive, and I loved the smells, but when all you can think of is presents I was sure that was a sin. Finally Mass was over. We all piled into the car and fought all the way home. Our stomachs were growling, but we could stand that if we could just open our presents.
More bad news! "You have to wait till your aunt and uncle arrive,” Dad said. Till then we snacked and checked the street out front every other second. I was having an anxiety attack waiting. Why couldn’t we be a normal family and open our presents first. Then I saw the red station wagon, as if Santa himself was driving. My uncle was a jovial man, but didn’t resemble Santa otherwise. Not having any kids of his own, my uncle was a kid at heart, and the sky was the limit. He always bought the latest and the best toys.
“They’re here,” I screamed!
We surrounded them like bees to the hive, and grabbed anything we could carry. When they came into the house we treated them like royalty and found them the most comfortable seats.
Trying to bar a riot, my dad came in and started handing out the presents. He was too slow, and the grumbling started. I was called over to give him a hand passing them out, and the paper and ribbons started to fly. The kids took over, bikes were cruising in the front yard, skates were being laced, and everyone was happy. There were smiles on all of our faces, and my brother Jimmy got a big Tonka dump truck that occupied him for a while. He was too quiet, and when I looked in the back of his truck a minute later; there was a mountain of white sugar, and he had his head buried in it. Oh well. Dad should have kept him tethered to the radiator with the truck.
Merry Christmas little brother.

Impressum

Texte: (c) Serena Axel 2011
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 22.12.2011

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