Christmas at Grandma and Papaw’s house was a special time for me, and probably for my cousins as well. We didn’t live near them so most years we didn’t spend Christmas Day with them but oh, when we did it was wonderful. To a little child it was all warmth and magic. Grandma and Papaw’s house sparkled at Christmas. I was not sure why. But I think I know now that I’m older.

Christmas at Grandma and Papaw’s

On Christmas Eve, when we would stay there over night, I was little and I slept in Grandma and Papaw’s bed with them. Their bed was a big bed that sat in the corner of a big room with a fireplace and another smaller iron bed, a piano and two curtain covered closets with a window in between them. Grandma stored home canned food and fresh apples under her bed and when I slept in it I could smell the sweetness of apples.

At night when the fireplace was roaring, there was a long clothes line strung across the room from corner to corner and all our socks and mittens and underwear would be hung up there to dry after being washed. The fire flicked and the clothes cast little shadows on the walls and ceiling. Papaw sat in a low chair by the fireplace and played his fiddle. I remember falling asleep many nights to the tunes of Papaw’s fiddle and the dancing shadows and waking up sideways in the big bed.

Grandma and Papaw had an outhouse at this time and at night we used chamber pots. That was the only thing I didn’t like about being at Grandmas in the winter; getting up in the chill of the night and sitting on that cold pot. And sometimes the roll of toilet paper would roll under the iron bed and I couldn’t reach it and I hoped my Mother would not find out that I had not used it.

On Christmas morning I would wake up and rush to the living room and find the tree shining with tinsel, its low branches tucked up and packed with gifts. I always wondered how Santa found me at Grandma’s.

After gifts, we had a light breakfast and it was usually snowing. So Mother stuffed me in my snow boots and coat and let me play. I wandered and wondered at the snow on the fruit trees and in the bird bath. I might make a little snow man or a snow angel.

The snow creaked and crunched as I walked through it, leaving my small foot prints behind. The cows would stop what they were doing to check me out. They looked funny with their backs and heads covered with a layer of snow and their jaws moving, chewing their cuds. The snowy fields seemed to go on forever. As I grew older I would think about how many generations of my family played in the snow in that very spot. I wondered if everyone thought the little tar paper house sparkled at Christmas.

After playing I was hungry and tired so Mother made me something to eat and tucked me in the big bed to nap. When I awoke dinner preparations were well under way and the little house was bright and shiny.

There were always lots of people at Grandma’s for Christmas dinner, people I knew and people I didn’t know. There was chocolate fudge and fruit cake, cookies and peppermint bark. The house smelled of yeast rolls and roasting. The stove in the kitchen and the fireplace warmed up the whole house. The sparkling grew and grew.

The house was filled with voices and laughter, food and love. People came and left all day long with goodwill and fudge. When I sit quietly I can still hear the happy sounds and see the sparkle and it makes me smile.