A Christmas Eve Memory

I have a memory. A ghost of Christmas past.

This may not even be a real happening or maybe it is a distortion of a real happening. But it is recorded in my memory banks as if it did happen just this way.

It was Christmas eve. I was very small but big enough to know that Christmas was supposed to be about giving, not about receiving.

On Christmas eve, my family and my mother's sister and brothers' families would all get together and we laughed and played and ate and exchanged gifts in what I determined was a haphazard organized fashion. I adored these extended family gatherings. On Christmas eve, the best event was when the kids handed out gifts tagged to every member of the family from every other family. It was a lot of presents. There was a lot of oh-ing and ahh-ing and crumpled wrapping paper.

But....this particular Christmas eve I noticed that my grandfather wasn't getting any gifts. Not a one. I couldn't believe it. How could all the adults in the family have forgotten "Popper?" I loved Popper. He looked confused and peculiar as he was the one person who received nothing from anyone. My heart ached. I wanted to run and find something to wrap and give to him. In fact, I may have done that, wrapped something inappropriate found somewhere in the house and given it to him and although he said thank you, I knew he knew it was an afterthought gift wrapped quickly to make up for being forgotten. I wanted to sit in his lap and hug him, but actually, Popper wasn't the sort of grandpa you did that to. We loved him, but without the cuddling.

For a few moments I doubted my families' togetherness, thoughtfulness, connection. I wondered how Popper was taking it. My little heart was breaking. It isn't that our gifts were expensive or big, but still they were thoughtful and something someone took the time to get and wrap and give. They were meaningful. They were the special part of Christmas for a little kid.

THEN.

Two uncles walked into a back room and pushed out a new big blue elegant lounge chair and placed it in front of Popper and everyone shouted Merry Christmas. My eyes got big, my heart thumped audibly. Popper had gotten a "special" gift, a BIG gift, that everyone had chipped in to buy for him.

What a family I had! What a wonderful loving thoughtful caring excellent family. Faith restored.

I don't know why this particular incident has stayed with me while the particulars of most of my young Christmas memories have been filed too deep to be readily retrieved. But there it is, front and center in my memory bank. I have no idea why???

Merry Christmas to my wonderful extended family, and Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!