Christmas was her favorite time of year, and she would spend the whole year preparing. She would shop non-stop. If I went shopping with her I would always get a gift then and, of course, there was always something hiding in the bag for Christmas too.
I sometimes would catch a glimpse of something and gleam with excitement. When Christmas came around I thought I knew with absolute certainty what I was getting and OH the disappointment when it wasn’t under the tree. Grandma was a certified pack rat! I would come to realize later in life that she purchased gifts years in advance – the
mysterious item in the bag that made me gleam would eventually end up under a dazzling tree, but about three years later.
Grandma’s small home, among other things, was a veritable flea market of new and carefully crafted handmade gifts. I will always remember riding my pink and white bike, with the well-used banana seat to her house after school. I would jump off my bike and sprint spiritedly up the concrete drive.
I would enter the ample screened-in porch and stop and talk to the two pesky parakeets that “protected her home", as my grandpa used to say, “from any unlucky intruders.” Upon entering the humble lair, I would have to decide which path to take to find grandma. She had narrow paths all through her home that were lined with anything and everything that a person could ever want.
The cluttered paths could lose even the most experienced of hikers - an intricate map might be needed if an unexpected guest should arrive. The exuberant years of Christmas shopping and