I’m pretty sure Aunt Alva thought I was a girl.
When the family gathered at my great aunt’s house around Christmas time, I was always excited. My cousin Manassa and I would take a walk through the woods, accompanied by
Uncle Guy’s doberman who protected us from every danger, like rustling leaves and breaking twigs.
We’d eat lots of food — including ambrosia salad, a strange bowl of marshmallows, Mandarin oranges, coconut and ... other stuff. And Mom would tell me I’d had enough as Aunt Alva was piling more dessert on my plate.
And then came the Christmas tree. Erected in its perennial block-the-front-door-at-all-costs location, the faux evergreen was the perfect display backdrop for gifts. Mainly, the three or four packages with my name and my siblings’ on them.
Almost every year, without fail, I would tear eagerly through the taped festive paper to reveal my package of a pretty pink hairbrush and ponytail holders. Or something similar. I think my brother shared a similar fate.
It became a game ... what girl item did my gift contain? My little sister was always happy. It meant an extra gift for her. Maybe she was orchestrating this all the time ... sneaky little thing.
After opening gifts, we’d tell Uncle Guy and Aunt Alva thank you and give hugs. I still wonder how such a little woman could hug that hard.
Her high, shaky voice would tell me she loved me and I absolutely believed her. Even if she thought I was a girl.
I miss her and my heart breaks for everyone who’s facing Christmas without a loved one this year. Like a friend who’s father died unexpectedly just a few days ago. His funeral is a few days before Christmas.
Some of you are experiencing that this year, and I pray for you. I hope your thoughts are filled with the fun and love you shared. Share some with your other loved ones this year, and reach out to those around you. Someone else might need a reminder that they, too, are loved.
Merry Christmas.
Brett Campbell can be reached at 601-934-0901 or brettcampbell@bellsouth.net.
