Christmases Past

The voice urged me to step back. As I did, I felt a cool wind rush by and then a blinding light forced me to close my eyes. As I acclimate myself to the chilly air, I tentatively open my eyes. Looking down, I see a tight-knit carpet colored green, white and gold. Looking around, I see the old-style pine paneling of the living room walls. Behind me I hear my mom humming as she works away in the kitchen. The smell of cookies baking in the oven tickles the tip of my nose. I note a shadow at one of the windows and a moment later I make out the figure to be my dad standing on a ladder untangling Christmas lights. I look around again and spot the Christmas tree in the front picture window. Mix and match ornaments dangle on the limbs of a Christmas tree whose top just almost grazes the ceiling. Confetti-like strips of silver hang off the limbs simulating icicles. Underneath the tree are stacks and stacks of boxes wrapped in holiday paper.

Again, I hear a voice. This time the voice welcomes me to Christmases past.

Bewildered, I ask, “Why are you here?”

The voice answers, “Slow month. That, and it’s part of the stimulus package.”

“Just my luck, I get an apparition with more sarcasm than a roomful of fourteen year olds who just had their cell phones taken away. Really, why are you here?”

“You know, you should look back now and then. This time of season is a good time to do that.”

I looked in the direction of the voice and let the quiet edge in from the corners. Then I asked, “Do you know me? I like looking back. I try to trash the bad memories and cling to the good ones. I mean read my blog, man. It’s about ninety percent looking back at people, places and things.”

Quiet crept back in between me and the voice. As I grew uneasy at the silence I thought I heard a hushed laugh before the voice said, “Oh, yeah, your blog. You truly are a lone voice crying in the wilderness.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing. Come on, humor me, look back at past Christmases.”

“If I do this, what happens?”

“I can’t answer that,” said the voice.

Before the words could sink in I found myself drowning in a swirl of memories…an aluminum Christmas tree with a Western Auto color wheel sitting on the floor, Rock ‘Em-Sock ‘Em boxing robots, an electronic football game that shook the plastic players up and down the field. Being young and opening boxes to find socks or a sweater while trying to hide my disappointment that it wasn’t some gift I really wanted crossed my mind. I also remembered the snowy Christmas morning when our phone rang and we heard the news that my nephew had been born. Other things came to mind…fruitcakes so heavy that could be used for doorstops, shiny Hot Wheels, board games only broken out when family was in town, bowls of party mix, platters of cherry muffins and white chocolate-covered pretzels and even the few years when some of my relatives refused to participate in Christmas because they were convinced Jesus wasn’t born on December 25. All of these things made me smile and shake my head. The memories continued to flow in and as they did they grew more recent in time. Memories of receiving gifts were replaced by memories of giving gifts and watching loved ones as they really enjoyed Christmas.

The voice intervened, “You could stay here awhile couldn’t you?”

“Yes. I have had a good life so far. There are a lot of good memories this season brings.”

“You have pictures?”

“What?”

“Pictures? Do you have any pictures you can look at and remember those times?”

“Yeah. I have some on a CD, some on a hard drive, some on Kodak, some Polaroids, may even have some on video somewhere.”

“Hey, flash drive, Shutterfly, Flickr or YouTube, dude, I don’t care. You have them somewhere. You can look at them later. We have to be going. We have other places to go before this deal is done.”

“Other places?”

“Yes.”

“Do you mind if I look around one last time? I have a lot of memories here. I love it here”

“Don’t take long.”

I took one step back and looked around one more time. As I did, I could see my parents, my sister and her family, my brother and his family and my wife. Laughter filled the small room as we spilled out across every piece of furniture and as we filled every empty space on the floor.

The voice spoke, “It’s time to go.”

I turned toward the voice. Then I turned back and saw nothing more than a fog of white light. I squinted my eyes and through the mist I could see a little boy on a floor playing with a toy train.

Again the voice spoke, “Come on.”

I turned toward the voice and asked, “Is that me?”

“The time for looking back has passed. Please step forward.”

To be continued…