The Last Christmas

December 1932: my last Christmas as a human and one that was bittersweet in more than one that was bittersweet in more than one way. As a child I always loved the holiday season; carolling, snowball fights with Nate and Alex, shopping with Mother and returning to log-lit fires and the sense of home. But this year I wasn’t just shopping for presents for my Brothers but trying to find that all important dress, as Royce had asked me to his parents annual Christmas Eve Ball and dinner.

Mother was more excited than I was for the occasion, putting my dress as the major shopping priority over gifts saying how I needed to look my best for Royce. It was actually when we were on a day trip to Manhattan that we found the dress, deep blue, like my eyes with silver sequin detail throughout. I had to admit it was stunning and I looked like a movie star, but there was no way my parents could afford it. But Mother was insistent, asking the sales girl to ring it up with matching gloves and a faux fur stole too. I stood in the store dumbfounded, I knew it was beyond anything they could afford, Mother assuring me it was fine and repeatedly saying that Royce would love it. As we went back into the cold Manhattan air I stood and stopped for a moment, my expression questioning my Mother, before she turned around,
“Rosalie Lillian, can you just be thankful for once in your life? No actually. Don’t thank me, thank Royce, you’ll see.” Before I could retort, she stormed off into the next store, silently indicating no more questions.

So the day of the Ball arrived, Christmas Eve, and I sat at my vanity doing my make-up, dabbing powder on my flawless skin. There was a knock on my door and I looked into the mirror to see Alex standing in my doorway. I turned smiling, nodding for him to come in and he ran and sat on my knee, at only ten Alex was still young enough for cuddles.
“Rosey”
“Hmmmm?”
“You look like a Princess” he murmured before kissing my cheek and jumping off my knee and ran back to listen to the Christmas radio broadcast with Nate.

At six o’clock there was a knock on our front door and I knew it was him, checking the faux flower in my hair one last time; I grabbed my purse and headed towards the stairs. I could hear Father and Royce talking about the Bank and then silence- which Royce broke,
“A rose by any other name would smell as sweet” , I remember blushing as he took my hand and kissed it, before leading me out towards his car, ready to be driven to the house. As I sat in the back seat with Royce, I can recall my hands twisting around from nerves, before he turned my cheek and kissed it.
“My Darling, why are you so nervous?” I frowned as he laughed, “They will all be so stunned by your beauty you won’t even have to engage in conversation with them.” And he was right, dinner was spent at the head table next to his parents, the only conversation about how good Royce and I looked together. After dinner we were led into his parent’s ballroom, which housed the most spectacular Christmas tree I had seen in my eighteen years of being. Delicate glass ornaments hung from every available branch and there was a huge stack of identical wrapped boxes below it. Royce boasted how at midnight each guest would open one- the contents being grand party favours from his parents. Being in that room you wouldn’t have believed there was a depression crippling the world outside, and for once I believed in the phrase ‘ignorance is bliss’.

I spent the night in Royce’s arms enjoying each and every dance and glass of champagne on offer- yes even under prohibition they somehow managed to have bottles of it in the house. Then at quarter to midnight we gathered around the Christmas tree singing carols, whilst housekeepers gave out the presents ready for the guests to open. As I went out to reach for one Royce held his hand up,
“I have something special for you my Dear”. The clock struck twelve, indicating Christmas Day and all the guests started to open their favours whilst Royce, his parents and I watched on. When they were finished his father announced that Royce had something to say, I stepped back to let him speak but he pulled me forward with him, introducing me to the elite of Rochester. Then he did something I never would have expected, he got down on one knee and pulled out a small box and proposed in front of everyone,
“Rosalie, over the past few months you’ve made me the happiest man on this planet. Your sheer beauty astounds me every day, would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?” At the time it was all I ever wanted coming true, like my own Christmas fairytale, but who was to know of the reality that would occur a few months later...

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To Give Is Better Than To Recieve

“Giving is better than receiving because giving starts the receiving process.” Jim Rohn

One of the most vibrant memories from my human life is from when I was a little boy. I was eight at the time and all I wanted was a red wagon for Christmas. My father was a carpenter and my family was definitely not classified as the wealthy type. I wrote letters on letter to Santa asking for the red wagon.

Two weeks before Christmas I snuck downstairs in the middle of the night to hear my parents talking. Their raised voices alarmed me to the fact that they were arguing over something. I sat on a chair in the living room of our cabin as I listened to their whole conversation. My father was barely making enough money to keep us up more less to be able to buy any sort of presents this Christmas. I felt the pain in his voice when he told my mother that they would not be able to afford any gifts for me. She sobbed and said she would figure something out, that her little boy deserved at least one present under the tree.

I went back to my room that night before they realized I had been listening. As I crawled into bed the selfishness in me came out and I cried because would not be getting any presents. When I woke the next morning to my tear dried face I felt horrible because it hit me that neither of my parents would receive anything that Christmas as well. The following two weeks I worked creating them two simple gifts. At school I used the paint we had available and at home I hid the gifts in the woods so they would not find them. The day before Christmas I toted some paper out to the woods. It was not at all Christmas paper but regular paper that I had drew little candy canes on. Now that I think about it the candy canes looked more like messed up blobs of red fingers. I wrapped the two gifts and snuck them in my giant puffy coat to sneak them inside under my bed.

That night my mother helped me make chocolate chip cookies. I heard her whisper to my father that even though they could not give me anything she wanted to make Christmas seem a little normal. A hint of sadness crossed her face as she said those words and part of me got excited to give them there gifts. To maybe make her smile again. The night drew on and the happiness seemed to grow. I remember the smell of cookies overtook the little cabin and dad walked around singing Christmas Carols until it was my bedtime.

When they to tuck me in I was so excited that I couldn’t hold my surprise for them any longer. “Mom, Dad” I yelled. “I have presents for you guys and don’t want to wait till in the morning to give them to you. You’re the best parents a kid could ask for.” I reached for the paper wrapped gifts under the bed and handed them over and watched as they laughed at the paper. Slowly they unwrapped the two wood chipped, painted ornaments carved into the words mom and dad. A smile started to spread on my fathers face as my mom began to cry and I joked that she was not allowed to do that. They both thanked me and tucked me in again. Before my father left he made sure to tell me he loved me and even as a little kid knowing that I made them happy was the best gift ever.

When I awoke the next morning, I looked out the cabin window in my room and noticed the snow covered ground. The room was cold so I drug my cover off my bed and wrapped around me, knowing mom was probably going to get on to me for it. As I started to walk into the living room I already knew that there was not going to be any gifts for me but I was ok with that. To my surprise though when I entered the room a shiny red wagon sat under the tree. I dropped the blanket and ran to the wagon pulling it out. I could not believe my eyes and then it hit me. I noticed the wagon was made of wood and a familiar shade of red paint. It hit me then that my father had made this wagon and my mother had painted it. As I looked up into their eyes that was the answer I needed. I ran to give them a hug and told them I had the best parents ever. The rest of that day I played with the wagon, even at times with my dad. Sometimes the simple things are what makes you the happiest.