One pair of socks by Kristal Dawn Harris

As the holidays come once again, I can’t help but reminisce over childhood memories. My mother had nine brothers and sisters, so my family was quite large. The entire family used to gather on Christmas at my grandmother and grandfather’s home in Eastern Kentucky. My grandparents lived in a very old house heated with potbelly, coal stoves. By the time Christmas arrived, the real tree they cut down in the mountains had wilted and turned brown, but the pile of presents surrounding it was unbelievable. There were never enough beds, so the children, including myself, slept on the floor. No one had a cell phone or computer. There was only one television in the house, but no cable. For entertainment we played in the snow, went ice skating on the frozen creek or listened to stories told by my aunts and uncles.

On Christmas eve, we would all gather around the drooping tree while my Grandma handed out presents. My grandparents were very poor, but they always made sure they bought something for each grandchild. The grandchildren received one pair of socks wrapped with love. There were no bows, fancy ribbons or sparkling nametags, but wrapping paper was so deep in the room we literally waded through it. I remember my grandparents crying when it was their turn to open presents because they always had more than anyone. Their children gifted them what they couldn’t afford for themselves. I would hold my one pair of socks in my hand, watching them, not knowing how precious that memory would become.

On Christmas day cookies, fudge and cakes lined the kitchen table, several hams were baked along with mashed potatoes, green beans, cornbread and sweet potatoes. With the potbelly stoves full of burning coal and my aunts in the kitchen cooking, we usually had to open the doors in the house because of the heat. While my aunts cooked, my uncles would load buckets full of coal and set them on the front porch, so when we all left my grandma wouldn’t have to carry in coal from the cold.

Times have certainly changed over the years. Most of my aunts and uncles have passed away and my grandparents are gone. The old house was torn down several years ago and only green grass remains where the house once stood. As I gaze on my perfect, artificial Christmas tree surrounded with expensive gifts, I’m thankful, but that thankfulness also comes with a little sadness. As a child, I laughed at that one pair of socks my grandparents gifted me, but as an adult I cherish those memories.

One pair of socks turned out to be the most meaningful gift I’ve ever received.

 Kristal Dawn Harris

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/18576974.Kristal_Dawn_Harris