I don’t remember what gifts I received on Christmas day when I was 3 or 6 or 7. But I do remember coming down the stairs very early in the morning with Steve and Tom to wake up our parents.
I remember packages wrapped in newspaper comics. Opening gifts as fast as we could before Grandma Irvin, who always came early, appeared.
Our aunt and uncle and cousins arriving, everyone happy and smiling. Sharing our new goodies with all and playing in the basement while dinner was made ready.
Family gathered around the table…the table location would change year to year….the living room, the basement and even out in the garage one year. Then guessing who had our name so we could open our gifts. Playing all afternoon while adults talked. Then warm hugs and goodbyes.
We would then pile in the car and head to Aunt Carol’s where we would find Grandma Daft and more cousins. There would be playing and stories and eating Buckeyes, cookies and cheese balls.
It would be dark on the ride home and everyone quiet after the long day but there would be a sweet satisfaction of a wonderful time. We would look out the window, watching snow, never knowing how quickly time flies.
I see the moments now as clear as if they were yesterday. For it’s not the gifts but the memories that linger on. Precious memories. How they linger.