Here's a picture of our tree and to go along with it a story or two. I have not had a chance to play Drew's game yet and now seems to be perfect.
What Christmas memories do I have? One of my favorites to laugh about now is "gambling" for a time. Andrew and I used to play simple card games like go fish or gin to decide what time we would wake up on Christmas morning. He always wanted to sleep a little longer and I couldn't wait to be out of bed. We'd start with a happy medium like 6 am and move in 10 minute intervals. If I won we'd wake up earlier and if he won we could sleep in. Really I never slept Christmas eve and made myself sick with anticipation, I still do. It's time I enjoyed spending with Andrew.
I remember getting my first bike on Christmas. It was pink and the padding had an ice cream cone print on it. I loved riding it everywhere I could, while it had its training wheels. The day I had my dad take them off was the day I stopped riding. I later taught myself on that pink bike coasting down my driveway, walking it up the Searle's driveway, and once again coasting down their's and the sidewalk in between. I was so stubborn and I'm sure I hold the record for the longest time it took to learn to ride a bike.
Drew and I were at the grocery store a week or so ago and I started to cry in the cookie isle. This time every year Mother's Cookies puts out the frosted cookies in holiday shapes. Growing up I always remember my dad having some in the Tercel. Since we never took that car as a family I know it was his secret stash, his major award to himself. The year my Dad was alone in Magna I knew he wouldn't buy them for himself, so I created a plan to secretly give him those cookies and a gallon of milk. Just what Santa ordered. When Andrew and I visited him he already had a gallon of milk and so I didn't include it. Of course as an adult I realize if I had bought it, he would drink it. Anyway, we were late leaving his house and it ended up being around 10:30 or so when I finally had purchased the cookies, driven back to his house, rang the doorbell, and then hide. I know my dad was a little upset to have a suspected visitor that late but I hope he was happy to see his major award. Those cookies now remind me of what it means to give.
3 comments:
Em, you're so sentimental. I was touched by your words. I remember those times. They sure were good to us.
I must admit, I don't remember any of that stuff. I don't even remember cookies in the Tercel. That must have been something he took up after my time.
Good stories, nonetheless. Thanks for sharing!
That was a very tough Christmas for me. I remember getting the surprise at the door and wondering who would do something nice for me because I felt like such a stranger to everyone there. I remember sitting in my arm chair and crying that night after realizing that someone out there cared about me. (Thinking that it was a neighbor.) Thanks for the cookies!
As for the secret stash, I used to bring bags of the cookies into the house, too, but they disappeared before I could have any, so I started keeping a bag in my car so I could taste Christmas.
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