Day 6: Past Memories of Christmas

In the winter of 1982 (or there about) Southern Indiana was hit with a massive snowstorm. It left roads completely impassable, electricity turned off, and water pipes frozen for a week.  As a child it was magical.  And if memory serves me correctly, my mother and every one of my uncles and aunts, my two brothers, and my three closest cousins were present.  We’d all come to spend the Christmas season with Grandma. 

So, in a 5 bedroom, one bathroom home, Grandma somehow crammed 13 people comfortably. I don’t really remember the logistics of the thing, only that it was a magical house and could master such feats. 

As the snowstorm shook and rattled the windows I remember the uncles and aunts sitting at the kitchen table playing poker.  It was a large wooden monstrosity that Grandpa built to accommodate his family of eight.  Kerosene lanterns flickered and illuminated the card games they played and their voices would ebb and flow in a comforting way that only familial conversations can do. 

Mr. McTavish, the long haired dachshund, was allowed inside because of the dangerous storm and cold temperatures.  He slept with me in front of the huge fireplace that we kept lit through the next seven days.  

In the morning we woke to blinding white snow.  Its drift was so high that the large picture window at the front of the house was mostly covered.  Nothing was recognizable.  Most landmarks were hidden under a white blanket and only the tallest monuments broke through.  In the distance we could see some old beach trees rising like pillars on the horizon but nothing else. 

On the second day of the snowstorm I followed my Uncle John into the woods near Grandmother’s house to check on the horses and to “help” him cut wood.  I remember that before I was allowed to step out of the door I was bundled up in my coat, my big brother’s coat and then one of my Uncles coats.  I wore three pairs of pants and so many socks that I had to wear someone else’s boots, someone much larger than myself. 

There is a silence to the world that only happens when snow has completely covered the landscape.  Birds don’t stir in their nests.  They sit quietly waiting for the thaw.  They know there’s no use hunting for food and even the predators stay hidden when the snow is as deep as it was that winter day. Snow absorbs sound, even the sounds of our footsteps tromping through the woods was reduced to soft crunching noises. 

When we got to the fallen tree Uncle John fought to get the chainsaw started.  The cold weather had locked every joint and nearly frozen the gas.  When it finally started the noise shook snow off the limbs of nearby trees.  I sat on a log, cradling a thermos of hot coffee inside my coat. 

This was the most magical, peaceful Christmas I've ever experienced.