Wordstew entry; 11/23/11

Challenge: Share a memory of the holidays (any holiday).

My dad’s parents live on the farm just up the road from my parents; my grandfather and my father farmed together. When we were kids, we all went to Grandma and Grandpa’s house on Christmas Eve to eat and open gifts, and to listen in on the adults gossiping. Like most children, we were anxious to start opening the gifts, and there was always a large pile of them under Grandma’s tree – very large. They looked so beautiful under that tree, with their shiny bows and ribbons! We would try to get in there and peek at the tags, but there was usually an adult passing by to remind us to wait.

After playing with the pool table in the basement, and eating as much as we could get away with, we would begin to get bored - but we couldn’t open the gifts until Dad and Grandpa were done milking the cows. Hearing Grandpa coming down the cellar stairs into the basement was the first sign that gift opening would be starting soon – but we still had to wait for my dad. All of us kids would crowd around the bay window that looked straight over to my parent’s house. It seemed to take forever before the light in our house went off, and Dad, FINALLY done with his shower, would head back. We grew more excited as the headlights on my dad’s truck grew bigger, and we would start dragging the adults into the sitting room. That was no easy task either! Then the arguments about who got to hand out the gifts would begin, until Grandma would finally assign someone to that cherished position. We would start out opening gifts one at a time, but it inevitably became a free for all.

Wrapping paper flying, parents reminding kids to read the cards first and to say thank you, the tree all lit up, the smell of my mom’s famous meatballs stirring the air; I loved it all. Grandma and Grandpa would open their gifts last, and then it was time to help clean up and get ready to go home. Our family still gets together on Christmas Eve, but we now go to my cousin’s house, and it’s just not the same. I miss Christmas Eve at “the farm”, and I always will.