The Ghost of Christmas Past

As I sit here alone in my decorated house, I am visited by the ghost of Christmas past. My life is much different now than what seems like only yesterday.

Johnny Mathis’s beautiful voice singing The Christmas Song, Winter Wonderland, and Silent Night brings back childhood memories of being at home with my parents and my brother and sister. Old time ribbon candy in the dish on the coffee table. The IBM Christmas parties. A visit to Aunt Gen’s. Choosing a real Christmas tree on Mom’s birthday every year.

An advent calendar hanging on the closet door with a sucker and a bell in each pocket marking the days until Christmas. A bell goes onto the fabric Christmas tree and a sucker goes into the mouth of whose-ever turn it is for that day. Has it really been that long ago? It doesn’t seem like it. I’m so sad that both my parents are gone now. That was certainly a difficult sentence to write…

Fast forward to Christmases with my own children. How magical those days were. And now I realize just how happy I was (and how safe I felt) having all six under one roof. Under one roof. With me.

Oh my…all the planning that went into making their holiday perfect. Stressful? Maybe so. But I wouldn’t trade one second of that time for anything. How I miss it all. My kids still talk about those days with great fondness. And I’m grateful that I was blessed enough to be able to do that for them. But in reality, it wasn’t only for their enjoyment. What a treasure it was for me to watch them.

The ghost of Christmas past has set a wave of warm emotion over me this afternoon. Both of happy and sad emotions. For the last ten years the holiday season has changed drastically. Fewer kids are home. Now I work around their new schedules which are shared with extended families. Gifts are few. (I had such fun shopping for them all those years ago.) The food is still great but the menu changes yearly. It’s not as traditional as when they were home.

One tradition, though, that has remained the same throughout the years is centered around a little white mouse happily sleeping in a tiny matchbox. Every year that little ornament is set aside until my son, Jet, arrives. Then he takes that sleeping mouse to the tree where he searches for the most perfect place for him next to a blue light. This makes me happy.

A melancholy afternoon. I’m still not so good with change even though change has brought some very beautiful people into my life. Like in-laws, grandchildren, new friends who I consider to be family, rekindled friendships, and now a wonderful man.

I am blessed.

I never will forget the Christmases of old. They are truly my most treasured memories.

The ghost of Christmas past really isn’t so scary. He keeps me from forgetting the most wonderful times in my life. ♥️

Andi