Anticipation is high, for me anyway, as we roll along at a nice steady pace up highway 59 North. Traffic is light, not many cars on the road, unusual for this time of day. By the time we reach Houston's north side I’m immersed in the music playing softly on the radio, singing along and occasionally moving my head along also, feeling lighter and lighter with each passing mile. From time to time I glance toward the back seat at the two tiny sleeping bodies and smile to myself.

The ride is uneventful with nothing to amuse or distract from concentrating on the drive. All the way from MO. City to Humble hubby hardly has to hit the brakes at all. Once we reach the Kingwood Drive area north of Humble, it's smooth sailing all the way to Livingston. There is still little or no traffic on the highway. Two and a half hours later we pull into Mama’s driveway. Before we reach the steps the door bursts open and my brother greets us with a big hearty-belly laugh.

“Hey girl, it’s about time! We’ve been waiting for hours! You're the only one not here. You're always late. ” he joked.

Inside everyone is comfortably relaxed in the living room. Hugs and kisses all around the room and we are ready to settle in. After some catching up on who is doing what, which kid is starring in what production in or out of school, and what jobs and life in the city has done to the adult mind and soul, I venture toward the kitchen where mouth-watering smells permeate the air like wild honeysuckle flowers on a bright spring day.

My brother follows close on my heels chatting a mile a minute. I remove pot-tops to peek in every single pot on the stove waving the lids like a cardboard church fan to get a whiff of the goodies inside. My brother veers off and heads for the record player, he puts our all-time favorite record on the turntable. Shortly, sweet sounds of music fill the air drawing the others from the living room into the den and kitchen.

My plate is not quite empty when my brother grabs it from my hand gingerly and places it on the table, he takes hold of my other hand, and swings back smoothly into a well-practiced two-step in time to the music. Among the laughter shrieks and shouts of joy from the group we perform our ritualistic holiday dance, oblivious to their presence. Lost in thought, oblivious to their urging, each reminiscing on days and times long past, we swing to the beat of the song.

It’s Christmas Eve Day, 1977, we are home for Christmas!

Here at Mama and Daddy’s the excitement is exhilarating, contagious, and everyone is enjoying the journey into the recent and not so recent past – for this moment.

Back in the present, my mind envelopes the scene absorbs the sounds and immediately I think, “This would sure make a good story. I’m going to write it – someday.”

© 2008 by Leona G. Shankle - All Rights Reserved ▪ Dell Girl Publishing

 

Posted by dellgirl at 7:59 AM

Labels: books, family