Archive | December 2025

Do Over!

Dec31
Happy New Year!

The sun sank lower in the western sky and the heat of the summer day lessened. A glorious sunset turned jet trails and cirrus clouds ablaze in several shades of orange.  Although the sky would be light for hours to come, the shadows in the farmyard lengthened. My 77-year-old father and I walked on the lawn around the garden, orchard and flowerbeds. I was his youngest child, born the year he celebrated his 45th birthday.

Daddy had spent his entire life working hard as a farmer, having taken over running the farm from Grandpa in his teens. Instead of retiring as many people do, he chose to continue doing farm work, despite having sold the farm to my brother 12 years before. He looked tired and every bit of his age. He didn’t feel well. In fact, he hadn’t felt well for a long time. The invention of treatment for his medical complaint was still several years away.

The shaggy orchard grass felt pleasantly cool as it brushed against my ankles. Our conversation took a sad turn when Daddy commented, “I’m ready to die.”

I was horrified that he felt that way. Being 32 years old and the mother of two very young children made it impossible for me to understand how he felt, so I instinctively exclaimed, “Oh, no!”

Daddy calmly explained, “I’m sorry, but many of my friends have died already, and I don’t feel good anymore. I’m ready.”

Troubled, I questioned, “Do you wish you could start over and be young again?”

His prompt answer surprised me. He declared without hesitation, “No.” My heart dropped. I couldn’t understand why he felt that way, and why he was so adamant.

I always thought that having a second chance was a good thing. As a young adult, I looked forward to all the possibilities that lie ahead.

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New Baby Smell

Dec24

The baby lay on her tummy, with her head turned to the left. The fuzzy, pink bonnet on her head matched the pink, fuzzy, full-skirted dress she wore. Her sweet, small lips reminded me of a pretty rosebud. Peacefully asleep, her closed eyes displayed dark eyelashes resting upon her cheeks. I happily pulled her out of the wrapping paper to wrap my arms around her.

Mom allowed me to open my Christmas presents after we arrived home from attending midnight Mass. Daddy had gone to bed so he could sleep a few hours before having to get up to milk our cows.

A zipper all along the hem of the baby doll’s fuzzy, pink skirt opened to allow me to store my pajamas when I wasn’t wearing them. Mom said, “She’ll look so pretty in your bedroom on the bed.” The baby wasn’t really a doll. She was something pretty that a grownup girl could use and enjoy.

I fully understood that this was my last baby doll of my childhood. I was growing up, allowed to stay up for midnight Mass and even sing on the choir. Pressing the sleeping baby’s face against mine, I drew a deep breath. The wonderful smell of plastic that her head and hands were made of made me mentally revisit every new baby doll I’d ever received in past Christmases.

When I went to bed, I took my pajama bag doll with me. Curling up under the covers in my chilly bedroom, I cuddled and sniffed the perfume of the sweet baby. I was fine with no longer receiving dollies for Christmas, but there was something very nostalgic about the smell of this one. I laid there, awake and lingering at the outer edges of my childhood and sleep until the gray light of Christmas day’s winter dawn peeked into the windows.

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Yuletide Beast

Dec17

The bushy balsam looked as if it was bringing itself into the house. Stomping through the dining room and into the living room, the tree boughs bounced when it stopped and a voice requested, “Help me with the tree stand.” As the tree turned to settle onto the floor in the corner of the room, I finally saw Arnie, my husband. Pulling the tree away from the wall a little, he pointed out, “I think the best side of the tree is facing the room. All I need, is for you to hold the tree steady while I tighten the screws.”

Fresh balsam scent and the aura of cold clinging to the tree’s gray branches and trunk began to mingle with the warmth of the living room. Racing downstairs and into the living room, my nine-year-old daughter Tammie exclaimed, “I could smell the tree from upstairs!” Her thirteen-year-old sister Niki entered the living room a little slower, but with a happy smile.

Flicker, our tuxedo tom cat crept slowly around the outer perimeter of the living room. His black nose twitched; the smell of outdoors to now suddenly be indoors seemed to make him nervous.

By the time our Christmas tree was fully decorated later that afternoon, Flicker came to accept the new feature to our living room. As evening advanced, he seemed enamored with the tree, making a spot under one of the lowest boughs his favorite place to nap. It wasn’t until bedtime that I could see we had a problem. As Tammie walked past the tree, Flicker reached out with his long kitty arms and snagged her ankle with a claw. She let out a yelp.

I scolded, “Naughty kitty! Niki, you’d better put him out in the entryway for the night.”

Niki reached under the tree and scooped up the cat. Petting and cuddling him, she commented, “Look at Flicker! His eyes are crazy looking.”

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Candy Closet

Dec10

There was a big smile on my face when I arrived home from school. Snow had started to fall during the afternoon recess! An important item on my secret holiday checklist received a mental checkmark. Racing into the house, I announced that I was going to play in the yard for a while. I loved the independence of being a ten-year-old. Mom nodded but admonished, “Be sure to come into the house before dark or if I call for you.”

I slowly shuffled through the new fallen snow while listening to the sounds of Daddy working in the barn, preparing the cows to be milked. Large flakes continued to fall. Sounds in the snowy air seemed louder than usual and carried further. The scrape of a metal shovel on concrete screeched as Daddy pushed scattered feed back into the mangers for the cows.

Darkening shadows and a chill made me decide to return to the house which I found filled with the comforting smell of supper ready to be served. My big sisters, brothers, Mom, Daddy and me all had our own place to sit at the table. No one would dream of sitting in someone else’s place. Routines made me happy, so checking off items on my mental list of holiday traditions helped me enjoy them and anticipate the next. So far, this year, I’d check-marked Saint Nicolas treats and snow!

Frosting a huge batch of cut-out cookies happened the next day. Checkmark! I looked forward to the job, but I rarely stayed for the full course. During the several hours that it took, almost everyone in the family decorated at least a few Santa or wreath cookies. The older siblings created artwork that they didn’t want anyone to eat. I contented myself with shaking green sugar on wreaths and trimming them with a few red-hot cinnamon candy dots.

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Granted Wishes

Dec3

 During noon recess, the first snowflakes of the season began to flutter from heaven. It seemed to be the answer to every student’s prayers. Everyone in the classroom acted wildly excited and had a hard time concentrating on classroom work. I knew I wasn’t the only one who wanted to watch the fuzzy, fluttery snowflakes grow into icy, school-canceling snowdrifts.

Although the snowfall became increasingly heavier that afternoon, school wasn’t cancelled early. By the time Daddy came into town to pick me and my sisters up from school, the countryside was covered with a white blanket.

When I walked into the farmhouse, Mom was in the kitchen making supper. Glancing over her shoulder at me, she teased, “Guess what came in the mail today. It’s something you will like.”

It couldn’t have been a letter. Being a kid, I didn’t get many of those other than when it was my birthday. Suddenly, I understood. the Sears and Roebuck catalog, a much loved wish book, had finally arrived! Not even taking off my coat, I flopped down on the living room floor to pore over the thick catalog’s toy pages. I immediately started picking out things I wanted and hoped Santa would grant all my wishes.

Back when I was in grade school, and truthfully, even for many years after that, I wanted many things for Christmas. I’m not sure when my focus changed from wanting things to wanting experiences. Don’t misunderstand, I will always enjoy receiving gifts, but now highly value looking forward to planning and having happy experiences.


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