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�Memories don�t live like people do.� You know, she�s absolutely right. They live like vampires except for the whole blood-sucking, holy water/stakes through the heart/& death by sunlight qualities. What I mean is that memories don�t live like people do because they are immortal. I still remember the Christmas when I was seven. Christmas had always been my father�s favourite holiday and that year he�d gone all out. Our tree was 10 feet tall. And the image that will never fade for me is my father coming home with the tree. He burst in the door proudly hauled it into the living room one morning a couple of weeks after Thanksgiving. He was a smile ten feet tall at that moment. It isn't winter in Florida like it's winter in Connecticut, so you can't comprehend how the sun was like snowflakes in his eyelashes. But it was. And up until that point in my life he was the largest thing I�d ever known but I remember vividly, my tall.proud.beautiful father being dwarfed by this amazing spruce. And the laughing. I remember the laughing. He had the laughter and pieces of the trees in his hair. As brown as he was he looked like he was sprouting his very own forest. He and the tree looked like brothers to me. Hugginghugginghugging the Christmas into one another. We hadn't even bought the lights yet, but they were shining. I remember after he got the tree into the stand sitting down around his knees and smelling him. He smelled like the sparkle in his eyes: that Christmas frenzy. If you could have seen my father then� sitting in his favourite chair smiling up at his twin� if you could have seen my father then you would have been lucky indeed. By the time I was nine, that father was dead. Oh, he still dragged a tree in each year, but he didn�t sparkle like Christmas anymore. Hmm, but the memory still sparkles. It still crosses my mind trailing that Christmas frenzy scent, keeping the light in my father�s eyes alive forever. . How Rude! - Wednesday, Sept. 22, 2004 - 12:16 PM One small step but no giant leap. - Tuesday, Sept. 30, 2003 - 11:17 AM Where's George? - Thursday, Sept. 25, 2003 - 12:48 PM |
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a Nifty design 
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