The beginning of the Christmas season brings back a sweet nostalgia for the days when the air trembled with magic and I really, truly did listen for reindeer on the roof.
I think I was probably five or six and I was at my maternal grandparents’ house. It was a few weeks before Christmas and the decorations were up and stockings hung. (Rather spoiled only grandchildren, my brother and I had stockings both at home and at Ba and Hudy’s as we called these much-loved grandparents.)
Ba was in the kitchen, making cookies just like a proper grandmother. As I have always remembered it, no one else was in the house that day except for Annie, the taciturn cleaning lady.
I was ‘helping’ Ba and lamenting the fact that all her implements and pans were too big for me. “I wish I could have some little cooking things just my size,” I said.
Just then, again, as I remember it, a door slammed somewhere in the house.
“Run see what that was,” said Ba, and off I went to investigate.
And in the living room, on the hearth, right under where my stocking hung, was a set of little pots and pans – just my size.
I ran to show them to Ba, and she only said that Santa must have heard me and made an early delivery.
Years and years later, I asked Ba how she managed this surprise and she claimed not to know what I was talking about.
It’s just as well. I like to believe in magic. May there be some in your holiday season!
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