A Memory of Christmas Past

We all have Christmases that we remember as special or unusual. The first memorable Christmas in my memory bank was about age nine. I’m not sure why the family finances were leaner that year. It could have been because we had moved to a farm that we would eventually own—214 acres plentifully covered with cedar trees.

Maybe we should have sold Christmas trees that first year, but I just remember Mom telling us not to expect too much for Christmas. I have no clue what my little brother asked for, but I really wanted a pair of bobby sox with some sort of pebbly cuff as I recall.

Christmas morning came and I got my special pair of bobby sox. We had plenty of Christmas goodies as Mom was a good cook and baker. And I think that was the year my Great-aunt Anna gave me the dollhouse. These days I think the Antiques Road Show folks would call that dollhouse folk art.  It was (is) a 2-story house complete with curtains, furniture, and a family of four, thanks to my grandparents. My aunt had asked a neighboring farmer to construct the house for her and she painted it and made the curtains, painted the interior walls as well as the floors.

 

 My brother and I got many hours of pleasure from the little house as did a myriad of children who visited my parents’ home long after I had grown up and moved away. The dollhouse moved west to my home when Mom sold the house and farm after Dad died.

For a time it perched above our fireplace but I decided it needed to be more accessible to little hands with imaginations. It was moved to our piano bench one Thanksgiving and amused two little 1^st graders for several hours. It’s residing in our guest bedroom right now so that it can be easily transported. Any time a little one comes to visit, the dollhouse comes out and a child’s imagination takes over. The furniture has suffered over the years as have the doll family, but isn’t that actually a picture of life?

Thanks, Aunt Anna. Your gift one Christmas Day has kept giving for many, many years.