I really do love Christmas. They have always been happy.
During the holidays our grandparents would come down and sleep over for a few days. My grandpa would bring each of us a big bag of candy with some money stuffed inside. The amount was graduated to coincide with age. Since I was the oldest I always got the most. I loved seeing that $20.00 showing in between the licorice all-sorts and toffees. My parents didn't buy us toys throughout the year so anything we got at Christmas was a big deal.
I can see how Christmas could strongly bring back not so happy memories for anyone who has them. For the most part, the sights, sounds, and smells of Christmas remain the same.
I like small quiet shops. I ducked into a paper store the other day to search for the perfect card. As I walked along the creaky hardwood and admired the beautiful wrapping paper and pretty bows, I missed my grandma so much it was physically painful. She wrapped things so beautifully in gilded wrap that even if a hunk of coal were inside that box it would seem special. Every day was a celebration of beauty for her. She has lost her memories but the ones I have of her are painfully tangible.
Today I walked past a row of chocolates in the grocery store. The St. Anne's maraschino cherries caught my eye. I paused for a quarter or a second and my arm thought of moving towards them. In years previous, I would have bought these for my grandpa. These old-fashioned candies that no-one under 70 seems to like. I love them.
I miss you both so much. Thank-you for making my Christmases so sweet.