Welcome to a series of stories that basically make up my autobiography. It’s not entirely thorough, but I’ll do the best I can with the memories locked away inside my head. Could be therapeutic for me. Could be humorous for you. Either way, enjoy…
Previously on Life Story… I wished for a bike and the wishbone failed me. But my father didn’t.
Growing up, Christmas Eve meant dinner and gifts with family at Mamaw and Papa’s. Back then, they lived in a house out in Daleville, a tiny place in Botetout County. You might remember it as the place that had Nickelodeon where my sister lost her foot to a curling iron burned her foot with a curling iron. Anyway, to a kid, it was a really long drive from our house in Roanoke to our grandparents’ house in Botetourt. It was a trip that involved getting on the interstate and driving forever (or roughly 20 minutes).
Dinner was always a fun experience. For many years it was your traditional turkey with the trimmings. Kind of like a sequel to Thanksgiving. Then one year, Mamaw decided to change things up. We had breakfast for Christmas dinner. Another year, we did a DIY sandwich line. It’s nice to get a change up now and then.My cousin, Landon, and I would crack jokes throughout the entire meal. Our parents would all tell us to cut it out. They wanted us to be a little quieter while we ate. But we knew that they were really laughing from the dining room while we cracked up at the kids’ table. To be honest, there were times that we were laughing so hard, it’s a wonder neither of us choked to death.
After feasting on the roast beast, we would make our way to the basement where we’d sit on the floor and open presents. The kids would all open presents first (according to age), then the adults would open their boring stuff. Of course, while they did that, we would go and play with the toys we had just received.
One year, when everything was finished, April and I saw something amazing on the drive back home. It was a clear night that Christmas Eve and, on the interstate, we could see so many stars. As we looked up through the back window, we saw a bright light streak through the sky. That’s right, we saw Santa Claus.
Even back then, my mind was working logically. If he has to fly all over the world in one night, he would have to travel at the speed of light. Going that fast, if his sleigh would show up to the naked eye at all, it would appear as a streak of light. All of you unbelievers out there just hold on to your “meteorite” explanations. I know what I saw!
Pingback: Life Story: Chapter Seventeen – The Confusing Middle