As I sat here going through the prices of trees and advent calendars, having to tell my daughter "I just can't afford those at this time", seeing her disappointment, I was suddenly in need of some Christmas Cheer, an escape, or in this case, to return to a time in my past where things weren't so expensive. Where life felt more innocent. And in a flash, there I was, back in time to my childhood.
1972.
Christmas.
Holiday tunes were singing softly on my parents Stereo Cabinet.
The sweet smells of Christmas Cookies baking in the oven, lovingly being prepared by my mom and grandma. And there I was in the living room, in my pajamas with those padded souls on the bottom of my feet, looking up at our German Cuckoo clock with the two men sawing a log back and forth on the platform, telling my grandpa "That's silly!"
My grandpa was insisting those two men were sawing an actual log. All I needed to do was believe it and come morning, there would be proof. Twinkle in his eye, I was old enough to know he was teasing, but still young enough to want to believe in that kind of magic.
Just maybe...
Taking his unlit pipe out of his mouth, he glanced down at me, and with a smile, patted me on top of the head. "We'll see," he said, then walked away, likely headed to the kitchen to snag a cookie or two to satisfy his sweet tooth, a trait hard-wired in my family's DNA. I remained behind looking up at that clock and those two men sawing back and forth.
Just maybe...
Later that evening after the Christmas Eve meal, fire embers still glowing, I was scooted off to bed so Santa could come. Lying in bed, I didn't have visions of sugar plums or Santa or even toys. I still saw those two men sawing back and forth relentlessly. Without a break. What would I find Christmas morning, I wondered.
As how it is when we are young, I fell into a deep sleep, whereby the next thing I remember hearing is Grandpa's excited voice coming from the living room.
"Get out here! I told you! Look, just LOOK!"
Wiping the sleep out of my eyes and throwing back my covers, I ran into the living room to see what he was talking about. There he stood below the clock, smiling, pointing excitedly to the floor at what appeared to be a small pile of...sawdust?
No, I thought. It can't be! Or could it? Just maybe?
I looked at my grandpa, my eyes wide with a hint of skepticism in my voice. "Grandpa, are you SURE you didn't do that?"
Giving the grandparent promise that is only allowed to be broken on such days as Christmas, he insisted HE did not put that pile there. Well by this time we were all gathered around that clock. Parents. Grandma. My little brother. It was suggested by my father I believe that it was ground up saltine crackers. But Grandpa didn't budge. "Nonsense," he said.
Adults and child alike slowly walked away, off to engage in Christmas Day toy opening and breakfast preparations. But I remained behind, looking up at that clock, watching those two men, still sawing that log back and forth. Back and forth. Looking down at that pile on the floor, I decided right there and then to believe my Grandpa. I was simply not ready to stop believing his delightful stories. Not ready to stop believing in Christmas magic.
Over the years that story was retold, with someone always saying Grandpa just took some saltines, crushed them up and placed them below the clock. But I? I secretly and quietly kept Grandpa's version of the story. Why not keep a little magic alive in that memory. That's the way Grandpa would have wanted it.
And this year? Even though there is stress and financial pressure looming over me, I still believe. And maybe, just maybe, a little of that magic will flow our way this year.
💖✨
Victoria
Like my work? Want to see more of it? You know you do! 🥰 I put a lot of energy into my writings and appreciate the return of that energy in the form of financial support. I invite you to become one of my subscribers. Your financial support helps keep my creative gifts flowing, my child fed and gets me one step closer to my goal to create a better life experience for us - one coffee at a time. And don't forget to share with your friends.