She was going to wake up soon

When I believe of Christmas, I believe about when I was a kid.  I remember resting in the dining room with the lights on the tree.  The smell of cinnamon rolls would be in the air. Mom would have bowls of fruit & our number one nuts & candy resting on the counter.  The camera would be flashing to make memories of our opening the gifts. Mom would sneak away so he could put coal in the gas furnace, so the home would be nice & hot as both of us sat on the floor in our current pajamas.  There were more than five kids & mom & Mom, & I don’t ever remember an argument, or someone complaining if somebody seem to have got more. Santa was something that both of us opted to go to the corner radio shop to follow on the shop owner’s newest radio.  When the substitutes came through that Santa was in the US, both of us would run back home so both of us could go to bed. Both of us always smelled of the wood fire he had in his fireplace. Mom would make us take a shower & both of us opted to go to bed. After dinner, both of us would walk to our Grandmother’s.  She always had a fire in the hot afternoon stove & you could smell the heat. Grandma made the best mince meat pies & he would have a fresh pie resting on the table, waiting for us to eat. Christmas was easy back then. I have so several fond memories & I always equate the joy both of us felt with the warmth of the heating that was in the house.  It may be a bit unusual to some, but it was the fireplace, the wood or coal stove, & the smell of baking that is the ghost of Christmas past for me.

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