Reviving Auntie's Christmas
By J. Grant Swank Jr. (12/02/08)
"Come on, we’re going to get out those decorations and dress this house up for dear life!"
Auntie was in her early 90s. She was warned not to scale the stairs up to the attic. Not to the basement either. Health care aides visited her weekly for this and that.
“Well,” she said rather glumly. “The decorations are up there and down there.” With that, she pointed to the attic and basement, not quite overjoyed that they existed for basically they’d become nonentities in her existence.
“Come on,” I said. “Do you want to go to the basement?”
She slowly nodded Yes.
“Then you get your hand on the banister. I’m going to walk step by step in front of you so that if you start to tumble, you’ll have to crush me first.”
My wife, Priscilla, agreed to follow Auntie on the step behind her frail frame. Like bookends we guarded her back and front. I noted with that suggestion that a gleam started to slip into her eyes.
“Take it one step at a time,” I directed when we started with the first step going downstairs. And in careful time we made the journey successfully.
It was a joy to see Auntie eye every item in the basement, taking in the history - the memories - attached to those furnishings. Then she started to mutter one past scene or another linked to all those treasures over time.
If Auntie was anything, she was organized. So when we found a collection of Christmas ornaments, they were all in place. Priscilla and I lifted them tidily from their hideaways, ready to place them on the main level of that cute Cape Cod-styled Connecticut home.
After we had scooped up the basement Christmas balls, garlands and lights, we step-by-step made it safely upstairs.
“Now that was worth it,” I exclaimed as we walked through the kitchen into the living room. Auntie agreed with a knowing smile.
Now most of us have our favorite nooks for this memorable piece or another. So it is with Auntie. In other words, one from afar does not enter her abode to make decisions as to where the Santa is put, where the garland is strung and where the wreaths are hung.
Therefore, heeding her directives, we put the holiday décor in place according to Auntie’s custom.
“How would you like to venture to the attic?” I offered, realizing that the day was starting to shine brightly, regardless of the weather outside. In other words, there was a Christmas light starting to glow inside Auntie, though I don’t think she quite realized it yet.
“Well, if you think I’m able,” she cautioned.
“I know you are able. Come on. To the attic we go. I believe there is a special box or two filled with Christmas decorations not come upon in the basement.
Using the same safety measures for descending to the basement, we made our way to the attic. Going into Auntie’s attic at any time of year is truly a marvel. There are gems there that have been spaced out over decades. And they all hold rubies from heaven.
When we reached the top of the stairs, it did not take long for Auntie to come quite alive. She roamed about as if owning the place. Of course, she does own the place, so go to it, Young Lady. Go to it.
There was the nativity set in one box. There was a gorgeous ceramic Christmas tree in another. Of course, one box held a host of window candles. Then there were the angels and stars.
I whisked the handfuls in my hands, descending the stairs time and again. I had not realized that there actually were so many Christmas symbols tucked away in Auntie’s attic. Nevertheless, it was indeed our pleasure to discover them once again for this holy season.
The day progressed.
The candles had been placed in every window. The nativity scene was securely centered. The fireplace mantel was laced with greenery. The angel was watching us from near the front door. Wreaths graced the front and side doors.
As evening stole in upon us, the house took on its own nighttime beauty.
“And where are the matches?” I inquired.
Auntie walked toward her window shelf above the kitchen sink. There tucked behind the curtain was the slender box of matchbooks.
It was not long before every candle that had a wick was lighted. What a change. It was truly a transformation. The house had become a warm, cozy dwelling for the Spirit of Christmas.
“Now all I need is some friends to come in for a visit,” Auntie said as we three stood gazing at the wonder.
I knew that that would be one particularly interesting fete to see through. You see, when you are in your early 90s, there are many visiting friends who are no longer with us.
I then thought of a few: Marge, Mary, Porter, Tootsie, Fred, June, Bernice and so on and on.
With that, we assured Auntie that there were still church folk who would be most delighted to receive her invitation to enter that special space. Also, family members surrounded her.
It was a gentle smile Auntie wore as she turned slowly, taking in all the shadows and candlelit circles in one room or another.
For this Christ month, the Yuletide had been revived for one extremely special Aunt.
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