Article and picture submitted by K. Irene Stone
12-23–24
Written December 10, 2017, by K. Irene Stone, the first Christmas after I moved
back to Uvalde County.
Gray December Morning Musing: The door slammed behind me as I entered the long
utility hall and walked into the warm kitchen. An enthusiastic “Renee!” greeted me as
Grandma got up from her recliner in the living room. She came over, gave me a hug,
and asked if I wanted some coffee.
Sure, I said, and pulled out a chair to sit at the small kitchen table. She busied herself
getting down the delicate-flowered China cups out of the top cabinet — no coffee mugs
for the Reagans — and poured us both a cup. I’m not much of a coffee drinker but
drinking coffee from a China cup made me feel elegant, cultured. As I took the first sip I
could hear Pop in the living room, cheering on the Spurs.
Grandma sat down by me and before she could lift the cup to her lips, the door
slammed again. We looked up expectantly, and mom walked into the kitchen. Her
yellow sweatshirt was faded and covered with dirt, but she was grinning from ear to ear.
Look what I found, she said, holding out a garden-gloved hand. There, in her covered
palm was a perfect arrowhead, still crusty with dirt. Grandma immediately jumped up,
and, without asking, retrieved another China cup and poured mom a cup of coffee while
Mom carefully placed the arrowhead in my hand. I glanced down at it and enviously
asked, where did you find it? By the cement tank — dug it up, she replied, patting the
rusty spade in the tool belt on her waist. She took the steaming cup from Grandma.
Whew, its cold out there she said as she and Grandma sat down.
I reached over and opened the cookie drawer and pulled out a few stale Oreo cookie
from the opened package. Grandma had the best stale Oreo cookies. I handed Mom
one as the door slammed. We looked over as Daddy walked in, his brown jacket flecked
with deer hair. Got a nice eight-point buck, he grinned, pushing his cowboy hat back.
Bob and WC are dressing it now. Grandma got up, retrieved another cup, filled it up,
and handed him a cup of coffee. He blew on it to cool it. Sure is getting nippy out there,
he commented as he leaned against the kitchen wall, cup in hand.
Did you see the tree? Grandma asked all of us. Your Christmas tree? I asked back. Yes,
only ten days to Christmas, but I got it up in the parlor, she said proudly. Mom and I
scooted our chairs back and followed her into the living room, Daddy trailing behind.
As I passed by Pop, he sat up in his recliner, the footrest making a loud sound. His farm
and cattleman magazines leaned haphazardly on the side table. A couple fell off when I
leaned over and kissed him. A big man, 6′ 5″, he was a softie around his grandkids. I
stood back, forgetting about the TV and the Spurs game. He waved me aside. Can’t see
through muddy water, he said. I laughed, got of his way, and turned as Grandma
motioned me into the parlor with Mom and Daddy.
The back door slammed again, and Darrell walked into the living room, pulling off his
diesel-soiled jacket. It’s cold out there, he said. Daylight’s getting dimmer. Had to come
in with all you sissies. Ha! I said, hugging his neck, the strong scent of diesel
surrounding me, and maybe just a hint of cattle. Howdy, cuz, he replied, a big grin on
his face, pulling me closer. I laughed and tightened my hug.
Come in and see Grandma’s tree, I told him, stepping back. He chuckled, I bet its red.
Isn’t it always, I replied as we walked into the parlor together. There before us was a
small artificial tree covered in red lights and ornaments. Grandma’s signature Christmas
tree.
We all gathered around the little tree, and I reached over to cup one of the red bulbs. As
it glowed in my hand, I could feel its red glow reach up into my heart, enveloping it with
its warmth. I closed my eyes, wishing this moment would never fade, feeling the
presence of all whom I held dear gathered around me. There was no cold. No darkness.
Only warmth and happiness. Slowly, hesitantly, I opened by eyes, the bulb still cupped
in my hand … knowing I would be the only one left standing there.
Christmas memories. During this time of year, I pray they never lose their glow for you
and me, even when our dear loved ones are long gone and live only in our hearts.
“The best of all gifts around any Christmas tree: the presence of a happy family all
wrapped up in each other” – Burton Hills
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