Aye, That Was Then

By: Santa Fee

Aye, can you smell it?

…wet dripping mittens drying on  a string behind a wood stove fresh from hours of play in the snow

…the scent of a Father’s fresh cut fir tree in the living room filling the air with the aroma of Christmas

…the smells of nutmeg, ginger, molasses and all the other spices Mother and sisters use to fill the pantry with sweets

Aye, and can you hear it?

…the sounds of eight or nine kids boisterous laughter ringing through the house like the very bells of  Santa’s sled itself

…the carols and songs of Christmas played on guitar and fiddle or just the sweet sounds of a choir at midnight mass by candlelight

…the wind howling through windows sealed with plastic to keep out the drafts of Jack Frost’s surprise attacks

Aye, can you see it?

…the sparkle and twinkle of the lights and fragile glass ornaments that magically transform our living room into a child’s vision of a magic land

…the hills behind Tom Lindsay’s house where our toboggans, sleds or if we didn’t have either pieces of cardboard boxes, would race us down the hill screaming at every bump

…the contented look on Mother and Father’s faces knowing that they somehow once more managed to make Christmas what it should be for little ones

Aye can you not taste it?

…the first taste of that ribbon candy or crystal clear toy candy from your stocking nestled there among the tangerines and apples

…the meat pie baked beforehand but reheated in the oven as guests came and went or someone wanted a quick bite

…oh and the turkey, golden brown, father carving mother finally sitting after hours spent in the kitchen

Aye we had little money back in those years,  but we had one toy each at Christmas, Father and Mother’s love, lots to eat and drink and the memories we made together…