I have decided after my perfect day at home to begin a nightly countdown to one of my favorite times of the year. Tonight I will tell the tale of my Grandma Early's Christmas box.
Every year (EVERY YEAR), my 15 months younger brother and I would resist sleep, pace the basement, throw up and then spend Christmas day passed out on the couch, ill, because we were so excited.
But NOTHING could keep us from Grandma's house. Down we would go with little Jeffy and we would await our Christmas box. We knew there was one gift for us each. One GIANT gift. For the Earlys have always been known for having a lot of fun with Christmas. My Dad believes that Christmas is for toys, not for practicality. That being said...my parents did NOT approve of early risers on Christmas morning...but that story will be for another day.
The box though...was no ordinary box. Grandma would plunk it down in front of our eager, just vomited faces and we would begin the tearing and clawing of rabid animals after a prized meal....even though the smell of the pancakes cooking didn't help our over-excited stomachs. Inside, was a mound of newspaper. You see, Grandma wrapped all of our gifts in one box. Each gift was individually wrapped in newspaper. I remember unwrapping a black remote. Then a black Porche car. I couldn't believe it! I thought that for SURE my Grandma had given me my brother's gift! I was so excited to have a remote control Por-Shay as I affectionately called it (and no one thought to correct me). The world stopped for a few minutes. I remember nothing of the day after that moment. Just that I had a black Porshay car all of my own. But in that moment I remember every detail. I remember the pyjamas I wore. I remember Grandma's pink easy chair. The brown carpet. The sun coming through the large patio doors into the living room. The newspaper everywhere.
I have now grown out of puking every Christmas. I enjoy my sleep much more these days. I wonder if Grandma would have enjoyed giving 'the box' to what would now be 3 great grandchildren. I smile as I remember times past and as I imagine times to come. Kennedy is getting her Maplelea doll this Christmas and I can't wait to see her face. I hope she remembers the smell of the Christmas scentsy (according to Rory, this is quite sacred.."I PUT OUT THE CHRISTMAS SCENTSY" he claimed as he ceremoniously placed it on a shelf). I hope she remembers her grandparents next door coming over for pancakes. I hope she remembers every Christmas for the friends, family and well wishes for the years to come. I hope she doesn't puke with excitement.
But really...I won't put it past her brother...
