Читать книгу Merry Christmas, Daddy - SUSAN MEIER, Susan Meier - Страница 8

Dear Reader,

My father always tried to make Christmas magical for us. There were eleven kids in my family, so money was always tight, but somehow, some way, my dad—in cahoots with my mother—always found a way to make every Christmas memorable.

The year that sticks out most in my mind was the year my father worked out of state. He had to be back at work on Christmas, which meant he needed to be on the road right after lunch on Christmas Eve, and wouldn’t be able to spend any of the holiday with us—not even to see us open our presents. We were all upset about that because everyone knew Santa brought the gifts around midnight and my dad would be long gone.

It was a cold year, so we’d blocked off the kitchen from the rest of the house with a blanket and gathered around the table for lunch. After we ate, one of my sisters left the kitchen and immediately ran back yelping for joy that Santa had come while we were eating and all our gifts were under the tree. I was astounded. Getting gifts one day early was about the best thing that could happen to an eight-year-old, but to have it happen the very year my dad couldn’t be home for Christmas made the whole episode seem downright magical.

We talked about that Christmas for years. Still do, in fact. I think my sister Helen helped my parents set the whole thing up. She won’t admit to it though. Neither will my parents. But whatever the explanation, that one Christmas left us with the feeling that Christmas and family are magic. Real or created by someone who loves you, it doesn’t matter. Magic is magic.

Merry Christmas!