My First Christmas Memories

My first Christmas memories...........

I know how to drive my Dad's kin bananas.  I remember.  I remember back to what I've been told me being eighteen months old.  I remember what many would like me to forget.

My Cherokee orphan Mom spent more time celebrating Chanukah's than Christmases.

Now that is a culture mix for a little girl.

I could have been three when I awoke and saw a cut tree in the corner of our living room and

colorful paper clad things on the floor under the tree.  I knew the stuff was not mine so I just

looked and did not touch. 

Mom's standing orders, "Look and never touch.  That way nothing gets broken and you don't

hurt anyone's feelings."

As usual Mom was in the kitchen.  I asked, "Why is that tree in the living room; and not in the yard. And what's all the stuff under the tree?" 

That's your Dad's doing and his relatives will be dropping by today or tomorrow.

I don't remember any dropping by that day.  I was given something from under the tree.  I

tore the paper and for the life of me, I can't remember what it was in the paper. 

I do remember being able to tell and vocalize the difference between diamonds and rhinestones.  I'd turn over the piece of jewelry.  If it had a backing, it was a rhinestone.

Had I been given jewelry, I would have remembered.  Yes, I was a jewelry diva before I was

three.

Today, I shop garage and yard sales looking for rhinestones.  Thank Heavens for my art

education along with the other disciplines, forced on me by Mom.  I've learned about

stones other than diamonds, emeralds and rubies.  At a yard sale, I spotted a pouch from

an upgrade piece of luggage.  It was full of old jewelry.  I picked up the pouch; set it down;

walked away so I could breath.   The seller did not know what she was selling and my

heart was about to explode.

She wanted fifty cents for the "bag of junk".  Happily, I gave her a dollar, told her to keep the

change because I had no change and she could keep the change in her apron.  She was happy.

I was going bonkers.  I swear, I went home on a rocket.  It took me all day to really clean all

the pieces in the pouch.  The next day when all the pieces were dry, clean and shiny, I hit

"Google". 

My eyes did not fool me.  All the stones were over seventy years old and searching the makers

and their marks,  I lucked out with better than five hundred dollars for fifty cents.

This year is my "first Christmas" again.  Christmas in July, the twenty-fifth, I got the keys to my

new residence.  Getting this house had more drama and excitement with it than any other place I've ever owned or rented.  

Every day can be a first to celebrate Christmas that day.  Christmas is in the heart not things.

Patricia Barbee © 2011

Patricia Barbee
WryteStuff.com
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