Ghosts Of Christmas Past

I remember long ago...staring at the starry night sky in wide-eyed wonder... waiting for a Santa sighting. My little sister curled beside me. We listened intently for the sound of reindeer hooves on our rooftop or the jingle of distant sleigh bells. Time inched forward on those endless Christmas Eves.

Always by 4:00 a.m. - My sister's squeals would wake me. (And sometimes, I'm not ashamed to say, I woke her.) I remember the patter of our feet on the wooden floor as we raced to our parent's bedside. Momma and Daddy tried to stifle our frantic breathless whispers... our pleas for quick action to the tree... There magical gifts of all shapes and sizes awaited our presence.

As children, we never failed to be entranced by Christmas mornings. The surprises, the joy, the explosion of wrapping paper and bows.

I remember long ago... the holiday gatherings at my Grandmother's house. The air thick with wonderful smells and the kitchen bustling with busy hands. We crowded around the ancient dining table, bright eyes and smiles. I took for granted back then that we would always be together... I never thought life would separate us with a thousand miles or that death would snatch away any of my loved ones.

Shiny tinsel, blinking lights, and the pungent odor of real pine trees. Eggnog and fudge and cornbread dressing. Red velvet cake and ambrosia salad. Candy canes carefully hung on the small silver tree in my Grandmother's living room. My Grandfather's red flannel Christmas shirt and green bowtie and mistletoe over the doorways. Silent Night and Jingle Bells and Away In A Manger. Sweet Baby Jesus always a mystery.

Sparkling memories litter my mind and call me back to a distant time gone by. Sweet ghosts of Christmas past.