Maroc - NEWSDAY.CO.TT - A la Une - 22/Dec 04:55

Wishing for Christmas magic

DEBBIE JACOB EVERY YEAR, my brothers and I felt like kicking ourselves for believing in Christmas magic. We had our silent wishes for presents, something fun like a doll for me and toy trucks for them. We hoped to find the toys of our dreams in one of the many gifts under our tree, decorated with paper-thin, red and green glass houses, reindeer and Santas my mother ordered from some German store she found far from our remote dairy farm in Ohio. But every Christmas was the same. We got sweaters, socks, thermal underwear, boots, mittens and other practical gifts. Every year I braced myself for my last present, which was always the same: panties with the days of the week embroidered on them. My mother put a tag on the package that said they were from my brothers, who laughed hysterically at this gift every Christmas. Still, we fared better than my dad, who feigned surprise every year when he opened his present to find the same dress shirt still in its original packaging. My mother put the shirt in the bottom drawer of her bedroom dresser to present every Christmas. The tags on Grandpa Gotz’s carton of cigarettes, Grandma G’s headscarf, Grandpa Bowman’s loose tobacco to roll his own cigarettes and Grandma B’s handkerchiefs read they were from my brothers and me. I had one up on my brothers’ dreams of receiving a special present because my mother took her ruby ring from the jewellery box every Christmas and recited the story about how it had been passed down from my great-grandmother to my grandmother; then my mother, on the most dismal Christmas of their lives, when no other present was possible. Someday, she promised, that day would come for me. When I turned 16, and my mom had embarked on a career in real estate, she surprisingly announced I would get the ruby ring Grandma G had carried from Romania to Germany and then to the US. My mom decided to have the ring appraised. Thieves broke into the jewellery store and stole it. The store gave her a new ruby ring set with diamond chips, even though the appraisal showed the ruby was nothing more than a piece of glass. My mom needed some time to wear this new expensive ring that sparkled to impress, but felt lacklustre because it had no story. Three months later, on my 16th Christmas, I braced myself for the usual disappointments as we opened our gifts. My mom always determined the order of gifts to open. That year, four identical large boxes remained under the tree. Uncharacteristically, my dad passed them to my brothers and me. I removed the Christmas wrapping paper, opened the lid, pulled the crisp, crepe paper away and saw a pair of white ice skates with shiny, stainless steel blades. I stared, frozen with surprise, and couldn’t lift my hands to touch them. My dad, a man of few words, said, “Follow me.” He didn’t have to tell us to bring the ice skates. We weren’t leaving them out of our sight. We put on our new winter coats and gloves and trekked through the woods, with its bare birch and pine trees and thick carpet of snow to a small pond far from the house. While my dad brushed some snow off the ice, we sat on a log to put on our skates; then we marvelled at how easily we could stand and move on the ice without falling. We didn’t know how to stop, so we just tumbled over into a snowbank and laughed. I had never dreamed of ice skating, but I loved it from the moment I felt control on that frozen lake. This hidden pond offered a world of possibilities and unexpected sounds. A robin sang; a woodpecker’s beak knocked on a tree. Our skates registered every bump on ice that groaned and crackled, so that we skated for our lives, though we knew the ice under our feet was solid and safe. I would return to this hidden spot often, until I left home to attend university. In tough or sad times, I often close my eyes and trace the loops my skates cut into the ice. I see my father standing nearby and smiling. I marvel at his gift for creating magical moments like these. Sooner or later, dreams do come true. Merry Christmas, dear readers. May this Christmas deliver all the magic you need in your lives. The post Wishing for Christmas magic appeared first on Trinidad and Tobago Newsday.