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| Santa Claus |
“It's time for a short story, My Mom and Dad told me of when they got their first home it was a corn crib and Daddy moved it from the top of a hill down to a stream by logs and rolling it , when he got it there he piped in some water from the stream to a sink area which Mommy could use a pump to get water, he moved the ceiling up a little for head room and added to it here and there, don't know how long it took him but guess they handled it great back then.It was hard for me to even think of it when they told me I was only 9 didn't even know what a corn crib was. God I miss all those stories life was hard but had so much more meaning!” ♥ 9.10.12
Lori Gladding from
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| Christmas time |
"... and this picture brings up the deep warm feeling
of being six years old, protected, snug and anticipating warm meals, hot cocoa,
and Santa Claus the next day.
My sister, Cynthia and I
were so close to each other we shared magic and saw and anticpated in the
lookout for Santa together. The way Daddy built the tension through off-hand
comments, and sudden outbursts of story we strained 'til it hurt as each day
drew to a close to bring in the next one closer to Christmas Eve.
Christmas Eve we were sequestered
to our rooms to sleep, but we couldn't sleep. Mommy and Daddy were in the
living room downstairs doing something secretive, and making slightly muffled
giggling noises. A feeling of togetherness rose up the stairs with smells of
cookies or cake, and ham and potatoes in the oven while that night's dinner, as
always, lingered within me; the satisfaction ever present to lull me to sleep.
Not this night. We couldn't sleep straining our ears to hear and understand
every sound in the house, and what was that?
"Did you hear that, Cynthia?
Did you hear that?"
"Yeah. What was it?"
"Santa Claus and
reindeer!"
In the next few minutes we could
hear walking on the roof as clear as the dinner music and Perry Como serenading
Mommy downstairs. It was unbearable, and each minute was longer than the
shadows of a setting sun. Finally, the pain of it all dissolved into
us into sleep.In the morning before the sun had kissed the gray horizon we were
up and in Mommy's room.
"Wake up. Wake up!"
Daddy used to pretend he was
annoyed and try to make us go back to sleep, but our excitement made Mommy urge
Daddy out of bed. Downstairs we stumbled with Daddy in tow trying to slow us up
with short funny riddles and sayings. He'd suddenly say, "Wait. What was
that?" We'd freeze on a stair listening.
"Nothing. Your playing, Daddy.
C'mon, let's go downstairs!"
Finally at the bottom of the
endless stairs was evidence of Santa's visit: gifts and a lit tree!
"I told you we heard him. I
told you!" one of us would say and squeal with delight at the sight of the
presents, and the smell of sweets, and pine, and the warm feeling that was
always in the house. - Gregory E. Woods, 9.10.12
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| Mrs. Santa Claus |
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