Pretty Paper

As I sit here staring at my Christmas tree in all its glory, listening to Christmas carols and waiting for my cookies to bake. I am suddenly struck by the song that is playing…its "Pretty Paper" by Roy Orbison. Man how I love this song; it has a purity about it that I just love; I now know why my grandmother loved this song so. (I admit I don't know if she liked Willie Nelson's version better, but I know she loved this song)

I sit and I start to daydream about all the stories that my mom has told me about growing up and her mom preparing the Christmas dinner. My grandma was a small woman but she was feisty no one messed with her when she spoke, but she had a kindness that only grandmothers know how to have. She would stay up until all hours of the night getting everything ready; setting the table with a crisp white tablecloth; ensuring that there were no creases in it. Putting her nice china out; folding the napkins just so and always having a bowl of ribbon candy in the middle of the table. She was like an elf busy at work; baking cookies, preparing the bird, making her famous lapuchine (Christmas pudding cake) and wrapping those last minute gifts they had picked up in town earlier that day; all the while listening to her Christmas Carols. I wonder if the kids actually slept at all that night; knowing that Santa was coming…how could anyone sleep. 

I wonder what smells they would smell, I wonder what their favourite part of that night was, and I wonder how excited they were. I chuckle to myself as I think of the little ones as my grandma is shuffling from room to room getting all set up. She did this for as long as my mom can remember; just to see the smile creep across my mom's face when she re-lives her cherished memories. Oh how I wish I could've been there to see all of that. In my own memory bank I think back to the old house where my mom grew up and I imagine my granny putzing around, getting ready for the big day tomorrow. With the pots boiling on the stove, the counters full of her baking, the table being pristinely set. I can imagine all of this and am enjoying the thought of it...

Just as I have this thought the timer goes off for my own cookies and for a brief moment I enjoy the last few lines of my grandma's favourite song and wonder if my kids will have the same memories of me?