Thursday, December 16, 2010

A Christmas Story


The beginning of the Christmas season brings back a sweet nostalgia for the days when the air trembled with magic and I really, truly did listen for reindeer on the roof. 

 I think I was probably five or six and I was at my maternal grandparents’ house.  It was a few weeks before Christmas and the decorations were up and stockings hung. (Rather spoiled only grandchildren, my brother and I had stockings both at home and at Ba and Hudy’s as we called these much-loved grandparents.)

Ba was in the kitchen, making cookies just like a proper grandmother. As I have always remembered it, no one else was in the house that day except for Annie, the taciturn cleaning lady.

I was ‘helping’ Ba and lamenting the fact that all her implements and pans were too big for me. “I wish I could have some little cooking things just my size,” I said.

Just then, again, as I remember it, a door slammed somewhere in the house. 

“Run see what that was,” said Ba, and off I went to investigate.

And in the living room, on the hearth, right under where my stocking hung, was a set of little pots and pans – just my size.
I ran to show them to Ba, and she only said that Santa must have heard me and made an early delivery.

Years and years later, I asked Ba how she managed this surprise and she claimed not to know what I was talking about.

It’s just as well.  I like to believe in magic.  May there be some in your holiday season!
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34 comments:

Marilyn said...

Wonderful Christmas story/memory ...and I do believe in magic!

Alan Burnett said...

Ah, all done with magic - or maybe a little market research as well.

Friko said...

Now those are the memories that Christmas is made of.
Why can't Christmas stay like that when we're all grown up?

Pat in east TN said...

I love your magical story ... what a wonderful memory to have.

Your mountain picture is amazing!

Martin H. said...

This is just my sort of story, Vicki. Magical and untouchable.

Carol@The Writers Porch said...

Wonderful story Vicki!

Star said...

We both thought 'story' today! Loved your Christmas story. There is always magic in the world. We just have to open our eyes to see it!
Blessings, Star

Louise said...

What a lovely memory to cherish. Thanks for sharing it with us. I have one of those magical memories, too. One year I really did hear reindeer on the roof. I, too, never found out how Dad did that.

My Carolina Kitchen said...

What a fine lady your grandmother was. If you don't believe, you don't receive. What wonderful memories.
Sam

Suz said...

Oh Ba I love you!
How wonderful Vicki
an encapsulated magic bite
of love

Kath said...

Okay. I'm crying happy tears!! This is Magic. The magic of loving family.
hugs,
kath
kath-lettersfromearath.blogspot.com

Bouncin' Barb said...

Oh the magic of Christmas. Love these kinds of stories. Thanks.

Brian Miller said...

smiles...there is something very magical about this time of year...glad you found a bit...

NCmountainwoman said...

It is magic indeed. And the memories your story brings to me gives me a little taste of that magic again. Thanks

FOLKWAYS NOTEBOOK said...

Wonderful holiday story -- Holidays are magical for many children -- barbara

Tess Kincaid said...

Lovely story. Hope your Christmas is full of magic this year!

Miss_Yves said...

A lovely Christmas tale... which was reality for you!

Darla said...

LOVE the story! Thank you for sharing a priceless piece of your childhood. :-)

Brenda said...

Oh, what a wonderful story!! I love your grandmother even without knowing her! :) Stories like this are what Christmas is all about.

Mama-Bug said...

Grandmothers are such wonderful people! That was such a sweet memory you shared with us. Christmas was always such a magical time when we were children.

jennyfreckles said...

Oh, what a lovely story. I wish every child had a Ba. I love your header pic too - your snow seems to be getting deeper every day! Hope you have plenty in your larder... well, there'll be some tomatoes, I seem to recall.

June said...

Oh, the pure MAGIC of that memory, not to mention the original experience!
MAGIC! It was everywhere when we were little. I guess it's still around, but it takes different, and far less through-and-through thrilling forms now.

dana said...

My mother had a custom on Christmas Eve. My older sister would forcibly hold me hostage behind the bedroom door while Santa put the presents beneath the tree. Wheee.

One Christmas Eve, I heard a crash in the living room. I might have believed it was Santa, being clumsy. Instead, I heard my mother yell: "Dammit Dan, be quiet! She's supposed to think it's Santa."

I prefer YOUR memories.

Vicki Lane said...

Louise -- who says your dad did anything?

You know, I kind of hold to the Velveteen Rabbit way of looking at thinks -- believe hard enough...

There was a never-opened gothic-arched wooden door at the front of our church that, at one time, I was pretty sure might lead to Narnia. But I chose never to test my belief...

Margaret Bednar said...

Wonderful. And please tell me those little pots and pans are the original ones you got that year for Christmas!! ?

Reader Wil said...

I like this magical story! Do you still have these pots and pans?

J_on_tour@jayzspaze said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
J_on_tour@jayzspaze said...

Great story and good choice of photos to back it up.

Vicki Lane said...

Alas, both pictures were from the internet! I'm afraid I lost those little pots and pans many years ago -- but the first picture is amazingly similar to the way the fireplace at my grandparent's house looked.

Merisi said...

A wonderful memory of Christmas!

Paul C said...

Heart warming with a little mystery and a lot of wonder.

Kristen Haskell said...

That was such a beautiful story. I was right there imagining it to the very end. What a cherished memory.

Deanna said...

There is a Santa. I do believe in magic. And I believe in the beauty of your snow covered mountains. Love the story.

Tipper said...

I'm glad you got to hold on to the Christmas magic-in fact that was a gift itself-to be able to pull it out each year and remember.