A Ghost of Christmas Past

Will the sappiness never end?  Sorry, but it IS Christmas time which just turns me into a simpering wimp.  Or maybe a whimpering simp.  I can't help it.  Here is my most potent Christmas memory.

T and I have been together for a long time. In fact, this will be our 45^th Christmas together. The years provided many good Christmas memories for us, but I have a particularly warm and fuzzy memory of Christmas Eve 1978. That one holds special meaning to me not because of anything we received, we were young with limited resources, but because of the uniqueness of it; Christmas Eve 1978 had a nearly perfect Christmas “feel” to it.

Setting the Stage:

Our daughter, M, was 6 years old. T and I were both 26. T had spent the first half of 1978 living in in New York City where he and his band mates were trying to make a go of it. We were physically separated, but we were still together. I stayed put and kept the home fires burning where I had a job and where little M was attending kindergarten. T came home one weekend a month to visit. It was really hard on all of us. The idea was that if the band worked out then M and I would move there, too. Truthfully, it was a relief when the band broke up and T came home. He got a job at a record store after he came back.

Christmas Eve 1978:

He had to work on Christmas Eve. After the store closed at 5:30 p.m. there was a holiday party for the employees and their families. We lived about 10 city blocks away. That seemed like a comfortable walking distance back then. It must have been one of those periods where we did not have a car, or perhaps it had broken down? It is hard to remember. T had walked to work. M and I probably took the bus downtown to meet him at the party. The buses did not run late, so we intended to walk home together, which we did.

The party was great fun, very festive. It was dark and snowing by the time we left, but not bitter cold. The night sky was filled with big, heavy snowflakes. One of us was only 6 years-old, so as trite as it sounds we made a game of catching the snowflakes in our mouths. T hoisted N onto his shoulders and the three of us proceeded to walk home in the dark, in the midst of the most beautiful snowfall I can remember. Houses were decorated and multi-colored lights lit our way. 1978 had been a struggle, a crossroads, a difficult year for our little family. We were happy to be together. We laughed and talked all the way home. I will never forget how magical it felt to be the three of us against the world that Christmas Eve.

Sometimes I miss snow