The Red Room

I could feel the air cooling and the voices begin to fade. I followed the woman, small and kind, down the hallway. The walls were heavy with their burden of black and white photos of ancestors long gone but not forgotten. At least not as long as the woman lived. She was joy and love and family in one small package and she always remembered. She didn't live the privileged life of the others, hers was harder, truer. Her life was blessed and she was the first to claim it.

On we traveled, my youthful excitement growing with each step. It was my turn to visit the room. It was a red room with crimson carpet and dark furniture. The door was always closed so it was cold. It was messy but only in the way of a great heaped treasure. All manner of beauty lived there. There was the shining promise of wrapping paper, bits of Christmas, and bits of vintage. There were real antiques that belonged to real people...my people.

She would scrabble around in the treasure until she uncovered the reason for our visit. It was never the same but always warmly familiar. It might be a bite of candy or chocolate. It was exotic nuts or fruit. It was a special gift from sisters who lived in faraway places, sisters who lived like royalty in my little girl imagination. And there in the red room...all of a sudden...was CHRISTMAS. It was sharing a secret treat, just me and the woman. For that moment, I was the chosen, in on the most sacred of rituals, sharing in the most delightful treat ever dreamed of by man. It seemed as if the world was just for us...for that moment.

We returned to the warmth and volume of family. The journey shorter this time. A return to laughter, food, and sweet packages under the tree. But now, the contents of those beautifully wrapped surprises didn't matter. With her sparkling blue eyes, Granny had already given each of us Christmas, with our very own brief visit to the red room.

Hope all of you are having a blessed Christmas.
Remembering with a joyful heart,
Gigi