Christmas memory


I am missing my mother more than usual tonight.  Maybe it is the rain that makes it feel like I live in Seattle instead of Atlanta.  Maybe it is simply the fact that it is the evening before Christmas Eve.  Momma loved Christmas.  Despite the reason, I thought I would share a story I had published about my mother.  It was published in a book called Christmas in the Country a few years ago.

Christmas In Momma’s Kitchen
Aletheia D. Lee

On. Off. On. Off. I sat at the foot of our artificial Christmas tree watching the colored lights blink. I loved everything about Christmas: the lights, the music, the smells, and the smiles. Momma always decorated the house until it looked like Santa himself might live there.
Tonight, however, I was a little melancholy. I sat by the tree with only the colored tree lights to brighten the room and a mug of hot chocolate. Karen Carpenter was on Momma’s stereo singing “Merry Christmas, Darling” and I was wrapped in an oversized blanket. It was Christmas Eve and I was thinking of a boy. I was sixteen and just beginning to think of dating. Momma’s illness over the past couple of years had trained me to think of my family first and me, well, never. But I had finally met a boy that changed all that and he was many miles away, probably not thinking of me at all.
Sitting there, questioning the existence of true love, I heard soft laughter in the kitchen. I turned to the room behind me, startled because I had thought I was alone. In the soft light of a Christmas candle on the table I saw Momma and Daddy, wrapped in each other’s arms. Slowly they danced, totally enthralled in their love. I slid further into the shadows so my presence would not ruin the scene. I had seen my parents dance like this before, but this time it touched me much more deeply. As I watched them sway slowly I knew that not only does true love exist, but I saw it every time I saw my parents. From the way Daddy cared for her while she was sick to the way Momma smiled at the mere thought of him, I saw proof of true love every day. I sat back, sipped my hot chocolate, and dreamed of a love like that one day.