Remembrances of Christmas Past

Christmas with the Reindls

Packing into the family van for a two hour drive to Dayton from Lancaster. Pulling into the steep blacktopped driveway, past the huge tree surrounded by the flower box we liked to use as a balance beam, looking to see if Aunt Susie's van was there yet; it usually wasn't. Pouring out of the car, climbing over the slower sibling by the door, following Dad into the covered back porch, knocking at the door and walking into the kitchen, greeted by a blast of warmth. Grandpa greeting us with hugs: "There's my little Tweety Bird!" (So my voice was a bit high and squeaky as a small child...) Feeling the warmth from the brown double decker oven right next to the door, hugging Great Aunt Rose because I was supposed to, but resenting her a little for taking Grandma's place; knowing that something wasn't right there, but never being told what (until she died last Christmas).

All sitting in the living room, with the marble side tables, Rose's very floral couch with fringey pillows-braiding the fringes-Grandpa's gray recliner with the towel over the head rest, Rose's brown recliner, the Christmas tree in the corner by the rarely-used front door and the grandfather clock, the brass goose on the gray polished stone hearth, the built-in bookcases with Grandpa's carved wooden birds, many of his carved Santas all around the wooden mini grandfather clock he made with the fancy face.

Getting bundled up in snow clothes, Dad and Grandpa wearing old suits; one bright orange, one gray. Getting the sleds from Grandpa's back shed. Wondering at the old-fashioned wooden slat sled with red runners and the metal disc sled. Sledding on the front hill, seeing Mom and Aunt Rose watching from the front bay window. Sitting on the sled with Dad or Grandpa, or one of them pulling Michael and I on the sled. David hogging the good sleds. Grandpa bringing out his tractor mower and attaching the cart to the back and taking us for a ride around the yard. Finally tramping into the warm kitchen again and getting dried off and warmed up.

Kneeling backwards on the couch, looking out the bay window waiting for Aunt Susie's blue minivan to drive down the street, finally seeing it and jumping up and running to the back door, opening it and waiting impatiently for Susie and the boys to get out of the car and come in. Willy and Thomas running up, Susie carrying baby Charlie, Uncle Joe following them all up. Suddenly becoming shy and hiding behind Mom a little bit, coming out to hug Aunt Susie and the boys, hugging Uncle Joe but being a little wary of him because he likes to tease a lot. Listening to Thomas's never-ending and semi-pointless stories, playing fireman with Willy, trying to teach Charlie to walk; being unsuccessful.

Watching Mom and Susie pull the dining table out from the wall and opening the wings to make it big enough for everyone. Helping set the table with the good silverware from the china cabinet, waiting for all the food to be brought in, finally sitting down to dinner with all twelve of us. Saying grace, and remembering that Dad used to have to fold his hands together flat and point the tips of his fingers to the sky because if he pointed them down the prayer would go to hell and if he interlocked the fingers it wouldn't go anywhere. Wondering why Aunt Cindy and John never came anymore; not realizing what MS was. Watching Grandpa's hands shake as he lifted up his glass of water and imitating him out of curiosity as to how he didn't spill; not realizing what Parkinson's Disease was. Eating the roast, potatoes, carrots, rolls, gravy. Listening to Grandpa rant about politics and hearing his say "Damn" and giggling to myself. Feeling too full.

Playing with the cousins some more, waiting impatiently for it to be time to open presents, Grandpa watching us with a twinkle in his eye I didn't notice until years later. Finally bothering the parents enough that they agreed it was time to open presents. Digging under the Christmas tree and reading the names on the tags and handing them out with only a few mix-ups. Begging Grandpa and Dad for the olives in their martinis and sometimes being successful. Ripping the paper off the presents and years later having no clue what I got, but remembering the warmth and happiness pervading it all.

Going down to the basement and singing Christmas carols while Aunt Susie played the old upright piano. Thinking I'll never be as good as she is. Following the grown-ups back upstairs into the living room. Sitting on the couch next to Dad or Grandpa and falling asleep on him while listening to the adults talk about distant family and politics and old family stories. Feeling happy and warm. Finally being put to bed in the back room on the couch, with the furry blanket Grandma used to get out especially for me. Looking up at the stained glass in the little window above the couch. Being a little bit afraid of sleeping in the room alone, but hearing the adults talking in the living room and hearing the grandfather clock chiming every quarter of an hour and finally falling asleep, feeling safe and warm and happy, never expecting anything to change.