Merry Christmas!
Christmas is my favorite holiday. My family had so many wonderful celebrations together when I was a kid. Now that I’m older, the most interesting things bring back memories. I would like to share of my cherished memories with you today.
I was shopping at Walmart last week when I saw a fruitcake. The shiny dessert boasted festive colors of red, green, and orange balanced by the earthy tones of pecans. While it looked delicious, the true appeal was the memories the cake brought flooding back to me.
My great-aunts, Alma and Lucy, made fruitcake every year. I wasn’t a big fan of the heavy dessert, but I always had a couple of bites because I knew it was baked with love. Because they lived in California, they didn’t make it home for Christmas, so they mailed the cakes. Sometimes they arrived in perfect condition. Other times they didn’t.
One year when Mom pulled our annual fruitcake from the box and unwrapped the foil, it was completely covered in mold. We were all disappointed but swore to never reveal it was spoiled to the sweet ladies who baked it. If my aunts asked, we were to tell them how much we enjoyed it. Of course, we’d never intentionally hurt their feelings. We were taught better than that.
With a smile tugging my lips, I bought the $10.00 Walmart fruitcake and enjoyed a big slice in Aunts Alma and Lucy’s honor. I learned that I’ve developed a taste for it, and I think of them every time I have a piece. One memory leads to another, and I’m down the rabbit hole before I know it.
We didn’t have a lot of money when I was little. Mom made a great deal of the Christmas gifts. One year, when money was especially tight, she filled a suitcase with doll clothes she made from our old garments that no longer fit. I remember her sewing machine whirring away for several weeks before the holidays. To this day, that gift is one of my favorites.
I’m not gifted with a talent for sewing. I made a quilt for my granddaughter, and that will likely be the only one I ever make. I don’t have the patience to sit in front of the machine for hours on end, struggling to keep my stitches in a straight line.
Mom isn’t the only one who made Christmas special. Dad was quite the Christmas elf himself.
My dad played Santa for countless kids. He even drove to Mansfield to be the Santa for a group of kids at Aunt Karen’s antique shop during my teen years. That was a lot of fun. My cousin, Crystal, was just a tiny tot back then and the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. We caught her on video searching for her cousin calling, “Jewwwy. Jewwwy. Santa’s hew.” I haven’t seen that tape in many years, but it shows the wonder of childhood joy at its finest. Dad loved being Santa for that very reason.
Last year I wrote about the time one of uncles tried to ruin the fun and prove that Dad was Santa. He was foiled by my dad’s Christmas spirit and ingenuity. If you’re interested, you can read about it here: https://wordpress.com/post/ozarksmaven.com/8684.
I wish you all peace, love, and embrace of your loved ones.
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