SC Issues In Communication

This is a beautiful story written by my best friend, Tammy Ranello, about a special Christmas memory. She is working on her own blog for her writing but I decided to share her story here as well. Enjoy and Merry Christmas!

As a young girl growing up in Miami Florida, my greatest wish was to experience a white Christmas. Each year, I would yearn for the holiday, which was portrayed in every card and all the television specials. I had enough of lighted palm trees and even the occasional swim in the pool. I wanted to wear a coat and sing carols by the fire.

My wish came true during December of 1977. After an emotional year which included the divorce of my parents and the realization that there was no Santa, my mom announced that we would be spending the holiday break with my grandparents in Rhode Island. “Yes! I thought to myself, I was finally going to see snow.”

As the plane prepared for landing, I looked out the window expecting to see a magical blanket of white, but all I saw were bare trees and a gray sky. My disappointment grew as my sister remembered that we had forgotten to pack our stockings. I went from believing that this was going to be the best Christmas ever to feeling that this would be the worst.

The days leading up to Christmas passed swiftly and the weather was cold, but no snow. I just couldn’t understand why it wouldn’t snow. It was cold, it was Christmas Eve and yet there wasn’t even a flake. Instead of enjoying the opportunity of spending time with my family I wallowed in self-pity wondering why life was so unfair. As my sister and I prepared for bed that Christmas Eve I began to cry. I couldn’t believe we wouldn’t have our Christmas stockings and frankly I just wanted to go home.

I woke up to the sound of the grandfather clock indicating that it was 6:00am. I sat up and glanced around the room and to my complete amazement there they were. At the bottom of the bed, sparkling in the dark room, was my stocking filled to the top with lots of goodies. “There really is a Santa”, I whispered to myself and ran over across the room to my sister who was fast asleep. I woke her up screaming “Santa came! Look, our stockings are here”. She turned her head and looked me straight in the eyes and with the wisdom of someone two years older calmly said “haven’t you ever heard of Federal Express”.

Though it was for just a short moment, I was given the chance to believe in Santa and the miracle of this wonderful holiday. Thankfully, it did snow that winter break, not on Christmas, but a few days later. We got to build that snowman, throw snow balls at each other and even take a ride on a sled, but more importantly, I began to understand the real meaning of Christmas and that it isn’t where you are, but with whom you spend this precious holiday.

Many years have pass since I was nine years old. My grandparents are no longer with us and I have a family of my own. Yet, there is not a year that goes by that I don’t reflect on that New England vacation and begin to feel the warmth and magic of the spirit of Christmas.