Christmas Nostalgia

Perhaps no other time of year can evoke such nostalgia as Christmas. Indeed my favorite childhood memories center on the yearly yuletide celebration.  Looking back, I realize that my mother was the reason Christmas was so magical at our house.

            The whole process started with the selection of the Christmas tree.  As soon as our small town’s old-fashioned grocery store received its shipment of Douglas firs, Mama would be first in line to choose the perfect tree. It had to be purchased quickly, or it would dry out.  Our tree had to be perfectly proportioned and tall; after all, we lived in an old farmhouse with extra high ceilings.

            I don’t remember how we got an eight-foot tree home, but I could hardly wait to decorate it.  However, there was a ritual to be observed.  First, the tree had to be anchored in a bucket of moist soil to keep it fresh.  Then the tree had to stand for twenty-four hours so the branches would naturally spread out.

            Finally, Mama would bring out the Christmas decorations, complete with bubble lights and loads of tinsel. Next came the presents under the tree. My mother did not drive, so she shopped by mail order, which meant that our mailbox was off limits to everyone but her.  Part of the magic of the presents was the wrapping.  Our Christmas gifts were beautifully wrapped not only with ribbons and bows but also with Christmas trinkets and our names in glitter.

            And the preparations continued with lights lining our front porch, a Nativity scene in the living room, and homemade date nut candy.  Of course, all of these accoutrements were not lavish.  The decorations were old and often homemade.  The presents were inexpensive though my mother’s spirit was rich.  I was, without a doubt, a fortunate child, for Christmases past still glitter in my memory.