‘Spirit of Christmas Past‘ is a series of holiday memories that are keeping me warm this season.  As if I needed to be any warmer…

As I pushed the gas pedal with my right foot, my big, used Chevy truck still felt new to me.  I’d only been 16-years-old since May.  The afternoon sun was soft and chilly.  The sky was blue, clear–no snow this year.

Rock Creek Road in Norman, Oklahoma looked mostly empty.  People were already home preparing for family gatherings, putting the final touches on their gifts.  My 10-year-old sister, Toni was sitting in the passenger’s seat.  Between us on the middle seat were a couple of wrapped gifts.

Mom and Dad were busy this Christmas Eve.  In a matter of only a few hours, they’d be hosting most of the giant Thompson clan at our house for dinner, a gift exchange, and a large amount of bourbon-drinking.  But, my great-grandmother, Gaga, wasn’t going to be there.  She was in her upper-80s and getting around slower in those days.  Still, she had a sharp mind and she lived alone in her house.

So, Mom and Dad sent Toni and me to deliver our gifts to Gaga.  Our gifts were small—a Christmas ornament and some homemade treats.  But, Mom told us our visit was more important than the gifts.

The drive to Gaga’s house was scenic.  She lived on the outskirts of East Norman, about 20 minutes from our house.  Toni and I listened to Christmas music on the radio and enjoyed the ride.  But, when we pulled into Gaga’s driveway I was nervous.  I tried to think of what I’d say to her.  I was intimidated by the wisdom she must’ve accumulated over all those years.

I knocked on the front door.  Toni stood next to me.  We waited.  Nothing happened.  I knocked again.  We waited.  We could hear her fumbling to unlock the door.  Gaga was hunched over using her walker.  Opening the door was even a bit difficult for her.  Behind her glasses, her eyes lit up as she looked at us.  We opened the storm door and walked inside, giving her hugs as we passed.  Toni went first.  I followed.  Even then, I realized hugging great-grandmothers is tough.  They’re so fragile, you don’t want to hug too hard, but time is limited so you have to make your hugs count.  We did our best to walk that fine line.

Gaga told us to put our gifts on her wooden dining table next to the door along with other gifts that had been dropped off.  Then, as she slowly inched to her big chair in the living room, she told us to sit down.  Toni and I got to our seats before Gaga did.  We sat and waited for her.

She took a couple seconds to catch her breath, gather her thoughts.  When she spoke, her voice was loud and clear.  She had a quick wit.  She asked about how we were doing.  She asked about Mom and Dad.  She liked to talk and we were her only honored guests for the time being.

After a few minutes, the conversation hit a pause.

That nervous feeling kicked back in—what do I say to this wise woman?  The wrinkles around her eyes made her look both endearing and expectant.  To fill the silence, I blurted out the only thing that came to mind, a random Christmas question.

“What was the best gift you ever got?”

Another pause.

Her face glowed and she laughed.  Even with so many memories, she knew her favorite gift: A piano.  Her husband, a man who died before I was born and everybody called “Pop”, had pulled off an elaborate plan decades earlier.  He had surprised Gaga at a party with a brand new piano.

She described the first time she played it.  She told us what Pop’s face looked like when he saw her so happy.  She talked about how shiny it was, how surprised she was.  The thought of the story seemed to change her entire demeanor.

I’ve forgotten some of the details in the 12 years since that Christmas Eve.  Turned out that was one of Gaga’s last Christmases.  I remember at the end of the story, Gaga told us that at her age, she could no longer play the piano like she used to.  And, in that old, quiet house, she didn’t need to.  Her memory had already played us the most beautiful song.

Photo from Ian Riley on Flickr.com