The Red Bow

This is my Christmas story from a long time ago.

 Every Christmas as I wrap gifts

the little red bows cause my thoughts to drift back in time 

when things where always bright and cheery and 

larger than life.

It was Christmas time you see.

The excitement of the morning to come made it easy 

for my parents to get my brother and I to bed.

We knew the sooner we went to bed the sooner

Christmas Day would arrive.

As I lay my head on my pillow I dreamt of all the packages under the tree.

The gifts I had made, and the ones I 

would receive.

The next thing I knew my eyes popped open and the morning

sun was just starting to appear.

The excitement filled my body and I ran to my brother

grabbed his hand and down the stairs we went.

 Our stockings were no longer hanging 

but laying full on the floor.

My brother Sam and I each grabbed our stockings and began

taking everything out. 

Sam very slowly took each thing out one at a time.

Me, well I would dump everything out onto 

the floor for there was one thing I looked for

every year and that was the fragrant round orange.

There it was at the very bottom of my stocking,

I would lift it up to my nose, smell it and all was

right in my world. 

Sam and I would stay busy playing with our stockings

until Mom and Dad were ready to come downstairs and open presents.

Most of the time we would coax them to come down.

With our little voices, " Is it time yet? Can we start 

opening now?"

Our tree was especially pretty on this particular year.

 It was decorated with hand made ornaments and 

brightly colored lights. The packages where wrapped

and calling,"Open me!", as Sam and I waited patiently.

Mom and Dad arrived.

 "Can we start?" Sam and I exclaimed.

With those wonderful smiles that only parents

can give, they said yes in unison.

So my Mom took her place and started handing out the

gifts one at a time. I remember mine that year. It was a lovely 

set of color pencils. I was so excited. I could not wait to

sharpen them and start drawing and coloring

with them. You see I had graduated from crayons

to colored pencils. It was a big deal for me.

This was not the only gift under the tree however.

Mom and Dad carefully opened their gifts from

Sam and I. "Oh" they would say, " This is

just what I wanted!" I love remembering the smiles

and laughter of that day.

All the gifts had been opened under the tree. I realized

my Mom had not yet opened a gift from 

my Dad. I looked at her and she had started to 

clean things up. I looked at my Dad. He had that silly

grin on his face. The grin he would get when he was

up to something. I looked at him,"Dad?"

"Yes?" he said "What about Mom?"

He held out a package, he had hidden under the tree,

and handed to my Mom.

"Merry Christmas" he said grinning from ear to ear.

We all looked at this small square box with a tiny red

bow with thoughts of what could it be.

As Mom held the box it made a little jingle.

"Mom what is in the box?"I said

Slowly she began unwrapping the box,

then she gently lifted the lid.

Mom looked at Dad as if she was in shock

or something. "Mom what's wrong?"

"Jim what is this?"as she held up a set of keys.

With a grin and a little giggle he said,

"I don't know let's go see."

So he took my mother's hand and lifted her up off of the

floor and stole a little kiss.

Then we all followed Dad to the front door.

Still in our morning attire, Dad opens the front door.

There up on top of the hill, across the street was

the largest, reddest bow I have ever seen. 

"Dad that is beautiful!"

I had to see that wonderful red bow and what lay underneath. 

So I ran out the door in my flannel gown and

up the hill. There it was, I saw it, a brand new car.

 "Mom!, Mom!, come see!"

Next thing I knew my whole family was beside me.

Dressed ever so stately in flannels and gowns.

I looked up at Mom, she had tears in her eyes.

"Mom why are you crying?" I said.

She said in her broken voice, 

"They are tears of Joy!"

Written by Ginny Taylor

Edited by Jay Taylor

For me that Christmas was not about the car

but about the surprise, the grin, the bow,

the togetherness and silliness in running up that hill

in our pajamas.

The expression on my parents faces.

 It was the joy in the moment of giving.