I remember Christmas, I was 10 years old.
I remember wanting a watch. Really didn't matter what kind of watch, just a watch. There was this little box under the tree and I just knew it was the watch. I can remember opening it up and it being crayons! I was devastated. Dad encouraged me to keep going, and in a box with a warm pink robe - was my little gold watch. I was so proud of that watch and robe. And I enjoyed the crayons by the way!
Dad made a production of passing out the presents to the family every year. Wearing a Santa hat and holding the newest baby. Mom would make fudge and cookies. The house would smell so good.
I can remember helping her chop nuts and wrap gifts. Dad and I would decorate the tree every year. He would just brag on those carefully placed ornaments. He would sneak into the kitchen and snatch a cookie off the table - throwing mom off on her count - he would just laugh. She would huff. But then put some on a plate for him along with egg nog in a Christmas tree glass.
Every year dad and I would watch Charlie Brown Christmas.
As I write this I am thinking of my dad, he lost his battle to Alzheimer's 10 years ago - soon to be 11.
As I care for mom, as she suffers from the same disease, I am better educated and rest in the knowledge that the medical field has come a long way in 10 years - we have so far to go - but I know treatment, a cure surely is around the corner.
This year, I have moments when sadness hits me and then I remember I am so blessed to have been raised by good parents. Blessed to have memories of watches, robes, baking and dolls.
I am blessed to have mom with me this year, every day she will ask,
"Is it present time yet?"
I show her the calendar and show her how many days. She will ask if we can bake cookies or better yet, will ask if we have any cookies to eat.
I can't wait until she opens her presents of Pete the repeat parrot, new SAS shoes and perfume. I know she will take her time with each gift, fold the paper and put the ribbon to the side as she has done for several years.
I remember many Christmas days, and memories are truly precious gifts.
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