A Christmas Story

[Thanks for all the great ideas in the Your Turn suggestion box. Here’s the first of them, a compilation of a couple of the ideas.]

The bows pasted on foreheads,
The children hiding in empty boxes,
The cat curling among the discarded wrapping,

A reminder that gift giving and celebrating
With presents are child oriented activities.

The cooking, the eating, the talking,
The laughing, the hugging,
The naps in the recliner after dinner,

A reminder that family and love
Are activities needed by the whole family.

Please use the open space below to share your first 50 words on the topic “A Christmas Story.”


Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

5 thoughts on “A Christmas Story”

  1. My niece and nephew chasing each other around, playing with new toys. My sister’s father in law swearing as he cooks Christmas eve dinner. My mother rolling her eyes at the fact that she, an Italian-American, has to eat the meat and potatoes my sister’s father in law cooks instead of the traditional Italian feast of the seven fishes. My father, half-drunk and dozing at the table. It’s not a Norman Rockwell painting but it’s our Christmas Story.

  2. No matter how many lights Amanda turned on or how many lights blinked on her Christmas tree or how many logs burned brightly in the fireplace today, the darkness in her heart opacified everything around her. To her, it seemed as if this darkness grew more with each passing year. The death of her husband killed in action nine years ago at around this time of the year had shrouded this festive season in hopelessness and apathy. She prayed for strength and tried to search the dark places in her heart with the hope that the goodness around her would pour over her like a balm. That day, a knock on her door would be the catalyst that would spark a new beginning for her…

  3. Still
    The big bulb Christmas lights reflected in an Swanson’s tin potpie pan behind it are now replaced with soft white twinklers that come with the fold out tree. Both pretty. No more cookies and milk for Santa but baked banana bread and apple pie late on Christmas Eve to prepare for tomorrow. Writing of Christmas cards sealed with tuberculosis lick and stick seals and mailed with a three cent stamp gone forever, inflated to overpriced cards and a forty-nine cent stamp today. Turkey and ham dinners still richly enjoyed, but modern cooks like fancy recipes, or grill meat on the barby. No more wire telegrams or expensive long distance phone calls from relatives; contemporary cell phones make those connections for pennies. Black and white photos taken well in advance streamlined today with Skype images or cell cameras posting in nano seconds for all the world to see.
    But the presents are still the same, brightly wrapped under the tree, exciting the children or the kid in the adults, and the best gift of all is still available, Love came down on Christmas, softly, quietly in the night He arrived, under the stars of two thousand years ago, today the same ones, and his presence still graces mankind, ready to comfort the mournful, carry the weary, and bless those who want Him. I love the first Christmas story the most, still here, as vivid and wonderful as ever..

  4. Twas The Night Before Christmas

    We attended church in the evening, the night before, to honor the child of Christian lore.

    After church we gathered at our daughters home, friends and neighbors were coming, we would not be alone.

    Foods from the past were warmed and served, glasses were raised, and toasts were given, for memories preserved.

  5. What Christmas story shall I tell? The one of cousins in California where they are dealing with the Alzheimer’s affliction of their matriarch? The one in Port au Prince where friend-founders of a new (October, 2015) child care center that attempts to put a dent into the Restavec culture/system threw a Christmas Eve party for children and staff? The Christmas party in the Philippines where another friend lives & works with survivors of the sex trafficking culture? The one on the border between TX and MX where another friend works with refugees and the party they had? Shall I tell the story of a party between lifelong friends cancelled because of weakness and old age? Shall I tell how clusters of a family celebrated – two years and two days after the death and anniversary of a much loved wife, mother, grandmother, sister? Shall I relate the relief I had to be almost alone and able to “do Christmas” in my own way due to health or its absence? A Christmas Story is as variegated as we humans are.

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