This is one of my favorite Christmas memories: When I was 8 years old, my family went to Little Rock to spend the holiday with my mother’s parents, brothers, and sisters and their families. It’s a big family. We were all young, and Santa was a major focal point for our Christmases. So imagine out surprise and delight when the doorbell rang on Christmas Eve, and in walked St. Nick himself, dressed in red with black boots and a huge belly. He looked each of us over, and he knew our names! We shared milk and cookies before he gave each of us coloring books and crayons and made excuses about needing to hurry to deliver toys to children around the world. But he promised to return after we were asleep to fill our stockings. I can still practically taste the excitement, and it’s still talked about when the family gets together.
Why this walk down Memory Lane? Today, I wrote my grandmother in Little Rock, Mimi. She just lost her husband and is probably being moved from her apartment into a room in an assisted living facility. She’s lost a lot of her physical capabilities but none of her biting mental capacity. So what do you write in that situation?
I decided to recount my memories of Santa Claus in her living room and what a beautiful memory that was for me. I wanted her to remember the magic of the season and how amazing the family she created really is. And then I wrote this, “I can only hope that Julia and Max will know same kind of Christmas magic this year and always. Of course, they are already blessed to be a part of this family that loves so large.”
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