It was Winter 1970, although seasons did not much matter in
They say that some remember their birth…I have no recollection. No. In fact, my earliest childhood memory is one I have yet to understand.
I was three years old. It was early morning Christmas, 1973. I was wearing my favorite white, cotton nightgown. Pretty pink baby roses ran along the hem lines with lace at the collar and bunched sleeves. The sleeves were good for chewing when the monsters made their way beneath my bed.
It was cool that morning; I remember the cool black marble under my feet as I sneaked down the hall to the living room. I turned the corner into the room, stepped onto the warmer carpet and scrunching up my toes, buried them deep down in the pile to warm them.
I nervously gnawed at my sleeve and shifted foot to foot…afraid to be caught, while my eyes adjusted to the light. At first, I saw the twinkle of the lights amid the branches of the Douglas Fir and remember just staring…awed at how pretty it was. Then out of the corner of my eye, through the sliding glass door leading to the backyard and swimming pool, I saw another light.
It was intense in the middle, then soft and warm around the edges. I was transfixed. It was so very bright, but my eyes did not hurt…it made me feel…safe, warm, loved, and special. After a few minutes, the time it takes for a child to assess a person, I raised my arms to the light as if it were my grandpapa and wanted to be lifted for a hug, or to give one.
As it came toward me, I remember its' warmth and strength, and I remember my mom picking me up into her arms, from my bed later that morning, for Christmas morning snuggles. I do not remember ever having looked at the presents I had sneaked out to see, and do not remember how I got back to bed…but I do remember the hug from an angel that I have carried the whole of my life. I try to give a little of that to everyone that I meet.
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