A Memorable Gift

Now that the Christmas Holiday is here, and there are 364 more shopping days until the next one, it’s time to consider the memories.

In the days leading up to this Christmas, I took some time to recall my other fifty-nine Christmas Days. I tried to think of those many gifts I received and remember.

I had to think a moment.

I do recall one gift from when I was about twelve or thirteen years old. A time when I considered myself sophisticated by having outgrown the need for Santa Claus. My parents got me an electric guitar. A gift that was so far beyond my expectations as to make it seem impossible.

Of all the gifts, I can still see that moment in my mind’s eye as the reality of the instrument in my hands took hold. I am sure they experienced some buyer’s remorse as I fought to learn Jimi Hendrix, Led Zeppelin, and a host of other bands not on my parent’s playlist.

It is this single gift that I can recall with little effort.

Now I know for a fact I received hundreds of Christmas gifts over the years. Gifts from family and friends who spent time and money picking out things for me. I know they put much care and thought into the process.

And yet, despite knowing this, I cannot recall them without great effort.

I do recall the faces and voices of those who, once being a big part of Christmas, have now passed away.

But I do not remember the gifts.

I remember the family gatherings around Christmas.

But I do not remember any of the gifts, given or received.

Of all those many gifts, long faded into the fog of hidden memories, there are few I remember.

But I do remember the moments of Christmas. The moments of waking on a Christmas morning and making your way to the tree.

The faces of my parents at the excitement of sharing Christmas with a child.

The first Christmas with my wife as we started our own traditions.

The first Christmas with my daughter, just a month old, who had no idea of what all our excitement was about

The many more Christmases as my daughter went from an infant to a young woman.

She is now married and hosting Christmas as her own. Yet all those gifts vanish into lost memories.

These things I remember. Not the gifts, not the giving, not the receiving but the people that I shared those moments with.

This I recall.

We forget that these gifts are but the dust of life and our time with those we care about will pass with alarming speed.

Hold onto the memories of the things that matter, not the memory of things themselves.

All these years my subconscious knew what was important. It preserved the important memories and hid away the insignificant.

Perhaps it is time to pay attention.

The Christmas Dragon: Part 9

Remembering to Believe

It was hard to think. Elves and reindeer stared at me. Max leaned against the wall, following me with his eyes as I paced the room. He had this look of anticipation on his face like any moment I would announce I knew how to escape.

No matter how much I paced back and forth, Max still had the look of certainty.

I, on the other hand, was filled with doubt. If we could fly, Max and I might blast our way out. His fire-breathing talents had toasted trees in the woods around my house, but we had never tested full power. The problem was in here, there was no room to fly.

One of the Elves came over to me. He appeared older than the others although it’s hard to tell with Elves, they all look mostly the same.

“Joe, can I ask you something?” he said, hands folded in front of him.

I stopped pacing and looked at him. “Sure, what is it?”

The Elf glanced around as the others gathered behind him. “We are here because, well, some of us started to wonder what happened to the spirit of Christmas. When the reindeer disappeared, we worried it meant the end of Christmas. It seemed that all over the world people had forgotten about us.”

A small tear trickled from his eye, zigzagging down the lines of his face. “The Ice Queen used that against us, and we ended up here. What I…” he waved his hand around, “what we all want to know is, how did she trick you here? Don’t you still believe in Christmas? Because if someone like you no longer believes, maybe the Ice Queen is right.”

I studied all the anxious faces. Each of them waiting for what I would say. Me, a ten-and-a-half-year-old boy. I thought for a moment. I knew whatever I said would affect how things worked out.

“Yes, I still believe. I came here because it’s what Max and I have practiced for, knowing this day would come. I came because we are a team and we must save Christmas. I came here because it is the right thing to do, no matter how scared I am of the Ice Queen. So yes, I believe.”

As the words came out of my mouth, a small piece of rock fell from the wall. No one saw it except Max and me.

dark caveMax stood and smiled. The cave brightened ever so slightly.

It was then I knew. I knew how we could save Christmas.

 

 

TO BE CONTINUED