I suspect that I am not alone, getting lost in memories at this time of the year.
Here are some of my fondest of Christmases gone past.
My mom loved Christmas, we’d clean and cook and spend the day with family and friends, stomping snow off their boots and settling in for a wondrous Turkey feast.
My mom loved to sing, sadly, it was not one of her talents. One year while she was singing “Silent Night” off key, I laughed. How she threw a washcloth around two corners and smacked me in the head with it, remains a mystery to this day.
My brother was the baby of the family, one memory is when Mom woke us girls up early so that we could peak around the staircase to see him in his red pajamas, eyes full of wonder as he looked at the tree, marveling at the magic of Santa.
One year, I got roses from a boyfriend; I scoffed at the expense and how temporary they were. My mom said, “Honey, appreciate it, one day no one will send you roses. She was right.
Every year all of the women would do all the cooking and cleaning, while the men watched football or something on TV, I never thought it was fair, I feel the same today.
I’m not a fan of surprises, always found and unwrapped my presents, rewrapped them and tried to act surprised on Christmas morning. One year, she hid the presents at the neighbors; long story short, I found one of my gifts, a tape-recorded and recorded myself talking into it. Christmas morning when she heard the pre-recorded tape, she threw her hands into the air and said, “I Give Up!”
My mom was insistent on spending the same amount on each of us kids. One year everything we got came from Sears. She said she couldn’t find the exit into the rest of the mall. I asked her why she didn’t look up for the exit sign, or ask for help. My mother was a proud, no sense of direction woman.
My mom loved that spinning color wheel that you put behind a Christmas tree; she’d sip her drink, smoke her cigarettes and sit quietly watching the tree change colors. I wish I had asked her what she was thinking about.
This year, if you get to spend it with family, then you are truly blessed. If you are wrapped in warm memories of Christmases past, you’re in good company.
This is a picture of my mom, Jeanne Marie Curtiss. Christmas Day 1977
Stay safe and healthy,
Much Love Always, #girlwithguitar and Basura Cat