Hello world!

Welcome to my new blog! I’ve been blogging on both my myspace sites. www.myspace.com/dianagroe and  www.myspace.com/emilybryanromance but I needed to find a way to be more accessible to readers who, for whatever reason, didn’t want to do the myspace thing. Plus, I’d like this blog to be a little more personal, so please feel free to share.

I’ll start.

Christmas time always makes us nostalgic. My childhood Christmases revolved around the last minute worry of whether or not my railroading father would be home or if he’d be stuck at the other end of the road. Amazingly enough, he always managed to make it. And then we’d pile into whatever car we happened to have (my mother always encouraged dad to trade cars, not women!) and we were off on the hundred mile trek to my grandma’s house.

100 miles used to be much farther than it is now. Or maybe it just seemed that way when winter weather was closing the roads behind us as we followed snow plows or crept along the narrow two lane highways, the chains on our tires singing a metalic snow song. But the trip was so worth it, for at the end was my grandmother’s house.

It was the perfect Christmas house, a drafty old two story kept warm by my grandma’s baking. She decorated with real pine boughs up the banister, wreaths with electric candles in all the windows and always had the biggest tree she could fit through the door. Of greatest interest to me and my sisters was the cardboard fireplace which I was assured was Santa’s entry point into the house. How he managed to accomplish this seemingly impossible feat was one of the deepest mysteries of my childhood, but since the old gent had always been very good to me, I was prepared to take a few things on faith.

The year my faith was shaken, when one of my classmates wised me up about the whole Santa Claus thing, I still wasn’t inclined to toss out my cherished belief. I had to see it with my own eyes. So I waited until all I could hear was the creak of the old house settling and the bitter wind soughing by my window. Then I padded to the top of the stairs to keep watch.

I didn’t have long to wait. My Grandma appeared with a bag of goodies and quietly filled the stockings at the cardboard fireplace. Aromatic orange in the toe, a handful of nuts I’d have fun cracking open later, a few candy canes and a small toy. I crept back to bed before she finished the whole row of stockings. I’d seen enough.

I knew for certain that there was no Santa Claus. But I had something better. I had a grandma who loved me.

Grandma passed away this year. I was blessed to have her for much longer than most, yet there’s never quite enough time with the ones you love. I have many wonderful memories of her, but my favorite remains that stolen moment when I caught her playing Santa.

OK, now it’s your turn. What is your favorite Christmas memory? Maybe it’s a recipe or a family tradition.  Or are you planning to build a memory this year with something entirely new? Please share.

Christmas blessings,

Diana/Emily