My First Christmas Morning

Mama and I spent my first Christmas morning at home wrapped in a quilt and sitting in a rocking chair as close to our little wood heater as we could safely sit. Daddy and my big brother, Joe, had gone to church in our Model A Ford. The outside temperature was 19 degrees and the wind was howling. Who knows what the wind chill factor was. The shack that we called home was built on a rocky hilltop surrounded by pasture land that offered no windbreak. The wind whistled through the cracks in the walls. She told me years later she could not rock me because the air that the rocking generated only made the air around us colder.

Motherhood didn’t come easily to my Mama. She had lost her mother to typhoid fever when she was a young girl. Eight children were left without a mother. The youngest was eighteen months old. Mama never stopped missing her Mother. I feel sure when she went home to be with the Lord, the first person she saw was her Mama. What a reunion that must have been!

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