Literary Craving

I've chosen a Christmas memory as the final entry for the G.I.F.T. Challenge.

Time goes by and traditions can't always stand its pace. In this blessed country of mine, kids nowadays write letters to Santa, Christmas Trees are covered with artificial snow, and people eat the kind of food you'd expect to have on a freezing winter night. Yet, there was a time when everything was different. So, this is my fondest memory of a Christmas Eve.

When I was a kid, we did know about Santa but we wrote letters to the Baby Jesus instead. It was Him who brought us presents (with the obvious assistance of angels). We would have dinner pretty late and it would come a time when my grandmother, sitting at the head of the table, would have a puzzled look on her face and would ask us , in a soft wisper, Kids, did you hear that? My brother and I would freeze and look at her expectantly, not daring to move, to breath. Then she would say Yes, there it is again. Go, go! That was our cue. We would rush to the tree, and there they were, all our presents waiting for us.

Now, on this particular Christmas Eve, a gentle rain had started to fall sometime before dinner. We all sat to eat, being merry and all, asking her from time to time if she had heard anything, when all of the sudden the gentle rain turned into a thunderous storm. Just like that, the lights went out and the water came in. A little flood of our own came into our house. You can't imagine the chaos that ensued. My mother and grandmother fighting helplessly against the water, opening doors to let the water go out. Finally, my mother took us upstairs, to calm us down, while my grandmother remained downstairs. We sat tight in our rooms, a little frightened, until the storm turned into a fine drizzle. Just when we thought everything was all right, we heard our grandma shouting, calling for us Children, children. Oh God! What's this, come, come. My brother dashed downstairs while I clung to my mother's hand, scared to death till I heard my brother cry Presents! Just imagine the magic of that moment. All the presents were soaking wet. Baby Jesus had come amid a dreadful storm to deliver our presents! I still can't tell what was more important, the toys or the wet paper wrapping them.

Anyway, the power came back, we finished dinner and I still don't know how we manage to sleep that night after so much fun.

Years later, we learned the true account of that magical night. You see, my mother used to hide our presents in a shed in the backyard (poor woman, we were the nosiest kids in history). That night, when she took us upstairs, it was my grandmother who walked (God knows how many times!) under the biggest downpour ever to fetch our presents and set them under the tree.

I guess I got a little carried away here, but I really wanted to tell you my most cherished "Christmas Tale".

Merry Christmas to you all !!