During my grade school years, no matter where my military father was stationed, we would often return to the family farm in Indiana for Christmas. My uncle and his family would show up and we would have a week or so of fun and reminiscence. On Christmas eve, there was always a unique happening that made us kids giddy with joy. After dinner, we would all be in the living room of the old farm house talking about how hard it was going to be to get to sleep, when we would hear the sound of sleigh bells…real sleigh bells. They would get closer and closer and then suddenly there were feet on the roof and the sound would literally make the room vibrate. One year in particular, we thought we could actually hear the sleigh take off from the roof with a woosh and a bump. Nothing was more exciting than those few moments in our young lives. Then it was off to bed with anticipation of the Christmas morning festivities. Pa, as we called our grandfather, seemed to especially enjoy seeing our faces after the sleigh bell incident, though we never remember seeing him in the room while it was happening. That particular year, we did notice that Pa was walking with a limp for the next few days. It had been snowing and on Christmas morning, we could definitely see the footprints on the roof but they turned into a slide trail that went right over the steep side and into the bushes next to the house. Strange way for Santa to leave, we thought. Oh well, all seemed fine and Pa’s limp got better too. He said he “slipped on the porch steps going to the barn.” Grandpa’s are great, aren’t they. They will do anything to make us happy. Have a safe and happy holiday season.
No comments:
Post a Comment