Don't eat the Christmas candy!
In the softly illuminated living room, Margaret settled into her cherished armchair, a sense of melancholy washing over her. The once lively home, filled with holiday cheer, now echoed with emptiness in the absence of her daughter and grandchildren who resided thousands of miles away in sunny California. With a new baby on the way, Margaret understood why they couldn't make the cross-country journey to New York for their traditional holiday visit. Since Anna's relocation to the vibrant City of Angels, Margaret found solace elusive in her solitude after losing her husband. Despite Anna's persistent suggestions to sell the house and join them out west, Margaret remained steadfast in her attachment to her childhood home and the tight-knit community she had always known. "I'll stay put until I can manage on my own. Let's revisit this when the time comes," she reassured Anna during their frequent conversations.
For weeks Margaret's heart brimmed with anticipation as she meticulously planned her trip to Los Angeles, but fate had other plans. A blood clot in her leg had dashed those hopes and her doctor forbade her to make the long flight.
Margaret’s thoughts drifted back to the Christmas days of her youth. She let out a wistful sigh as she gazed at the beautiful Christmas tree, adorned with cherished ornaments she had saved over the years. Those days are but distant memories now, she thought, her gaze filled with longing. The crackling fire cast a warm glow over the room, illuminating photographs on the walls that captured moments of her life.
Memories flooded Margaret's mind, a bittersweet mixture of joy and pain. She thought back to her carefree childhood, filled with laughter and play, and the fateful day she met Paul in high school. They were inseparable from then on, their love growing stronger each passing day. Their wedding day was filled with hope, followed by the precious moment when they welcomed their only daughter, Anna, into the world. But life can be cruel sometimes, and Paul was taken too soon, leaving a void in Margaret's heart that could never be filled. And then, Anna finished medical school and moved away, got married, and started her own family. Through it all, there were ups and downs, but Margaret treasured the moments of pure happiness they shared. A single tear escaped her eye as she reminisced.
Every corner of the room seemed to whisper memories of past holiday celebrations, now fading into nostalgia as she sat there by herself. We can’t be together, but what if… she played with an idea. What if I made a video for them and told them stories about Christmases when I was young? I think little Bobby and Ella would enjoy watching the video. They always liked my stories. Oh, I love them so much!
She closed her eyes and breathed in the familiar scent of pine, she was grateful for the memories that filled her heart with joy and warmth on this quiet night. She leaned back in her comfortable chair, turned the video recording on, and began telling the story of one Sweet Christmas.
***
“I love you all so much and miss all of you, but because we can’t be together this year, I thought I’d tell you a story about a sweet Christmas when I was Ellas’s age. Now don’t you get any ideas, I learned my lesson and I’m going to tell you about it. When I was a young child… Bobby stop rolling your eyes. Yes, I was young once, too. So, the annual tradition of decorating the Christmas tree was a cherished family event when I was growing up. The crisp winter air tinged with the smell of pine and the crackle of firewood wafted through the cozy living room, where our family gathered. The sweet melodies of beloved Christmas carols drifted from the stereo, enveloping us in a warm blanket of holiday cheer. As I carefully strung together pieces of popcorn to create garlands, my fingers became sticky from the buttery kernels, but I didn’t mind. It was all part of the joy and magic of the season. My mother handed me handfuls of vibrant-colored paper and shiny foil, inviting me to unleash my creativity and craft my own unique ornaments to adorn the tree.
My dad’s steady hand carefully dipped the smooth, round walnuts into a shimmering pool of gold and silver paint, creating a dazzling display of holiday decorations. The light caught the metallic sheen, transforming the plain nutshells into ornaments fit for royalty. Meanwhile, my mom delicately hung the special candy on the tree branches, following the Hungarian tradition. These small bonbons were only made for Christmas, each one meticulously crafted with vibrant colors and intricate designs. As I watched them work together, the air was filled with the sweet scent of freshly baked cookies and warm spices. Each bonbon held a unique flavor - rich chocolate, smooth vanilla, fragrant marzipan, creamy chestnut, tangy fruit jelly, or sweet caramel - teasing the little devil in my mind to steal one or two of them.
As we worked together, the room was filled with warmth, laughter, and lively conversation, creating a cozy atmosphere that only added to the magic of the holiday season. We carefully cut and folded delicate white paper into intricate snowflakes, each one unique in its design. With careful precision, we hung them on branches of the tree, adding a touch of whimsy and enchantment to our masterpiece. The soft glow from the twinkling lights danced across our faces as my parents and grandparents shared stories and memories. Time seemed to stand still as we basked in the love and joy of this precious family moment.
We weren’t supposed to eat the Christmas candy until we opened the presents Christmas morning, but I was about five years old when I noticed my dad sneaking into the dining room on Christmas Eve while mom was taking a bath. I watched my dad, and I couldn’t resist following him, curious about what he was up to. Peeking around the corner, I saw him carefully unwrapping a piece of candy, his fingers smoothing out the crinkled paper until it looked as good as new.
Once Dad settled down in front of the TV, I couldn’t resist the temptation any longer. Sneaking into the dining room and at that moment, my childish mind rationalized my actions: if Dad could eat them early, why couldn’t I? And so, I indulged in the forbidden sweetness, feeling both guilty and exhilarated at the same time.
As the sun rose on Christmas morning, I could feel the exhaustion weighing me down. The usual excitement of opening presents was lost on me as I struggled to keep my eyes open. I had tossed and turned all night, unable to find a comfortable position in my bed. Even Dad seemed to be struggling, his yawns frequent and deep.
After we had opened the presents, Mom’s voice was like a small jingle bell in the quiet room. ‘Now we can taste the delicious Christmas candy.’ She reached up to pluck one from the tree, but her fingers sunk into the empty wrapping paper. With a frown, she continued to search through the branches until she found a few that still held the special bonbons.
My mother’s eyes widened in amusement as she looked at our guilty faces. The corners of her mouth turned up in a smile, and soon she burst out laughing. ‘I suppose you two didn’t catch much sleep last night, and now struggling to keep your eyes open!’ She shook her head fondly before continuing, ‘Well, it seems you’ve learned your lesson. Maybe next year, we’re going to savor the Christmas candy together.’
After that year, it became an unspoken tradition between my dad and me to sneak a few pieces of candy off the tree whenever we had a chance. The glimmering lights and shiny ornaments would distract the other family members, giving us just enough time to pluck a few of the desired treats from the branches. But as tempting as the sugary treats were, we never again indulged in such an excess to avoid spoiling the magic of our Christmas mornings. Looking back, it’s a sweet memory - both figuratively and literally - that I will always hold dear in my heart. Merry Christmas to all, and I hope to see you soon.”
Margaret pressed the stop button and emailed the recording to Anna. She sighed. I’m getting old and I have too much time on my hands to think about the past and the aches and pains of my old body. I think it’s about time to make plans to sell the house and spend the time I have left with my family.
Her phone buzzed announcing a video call request. It’s Anna, she rejoiced and quickly touched the accept icon.
“Hi, Mom, Merry Christmas,” Anna said with a cheerful smile.
“Merry Christmas, Mom,” her handsome husband’s voice sounded from the background and his face appeared on the screen leaning over Anna’s shoulder.
Anna turned the phone back to herself. “We just watched the…”
Bobby’s head popped up hugging his mother’s shoulder, cutting her off in mid-sentence, “Hi, Grandma!” he yelled. “You were a naughty girl when you were little,” he laughed.
Margaret giggled, “Yes, but I learned my lesson.”
Bobby laughed. “Yup, I had once…” he stopped and looked at his mother realizing he said too much.
“What? What did you do?” Anna asked with a playful twinkle in her eyes.
“I… I know you told me not to, but Steve and I ate a bunch of chocolate on Halloween before we got home, and we couldn’t sleep all night.” He confessed.
Margaret chuckled. “So, you learned your lesson, too.”
Bobby bowed his head and shivered. “I did. It was awful.”
Ella pushed her brother aside, looking into the camera on her mother’s phone. “We just finished putting the special Christmas candy on our tree. Wanna see it?”
“Of course,” Margaret said.
Ella took the phone and walked to the decorated tree. “See? We hung all the candy you sent us, but Mom didn’t let us eat any yet.”
Anna took the phone from Ella. “We can eat one tonight to continue the Christmas tradition. Go, unwrap one each, and bring me one too.”
Margaret stood up and hobbled to her tree. “I’m going to eat this one filled with hazelnut cream,” she lifted the candy to the camera.
And they all carefully unwrapped the bonbons, smoothed the paper wrappings, and hung them back on the tree.
***
Margaret discontinued the video call and sighed. I miss them so much! I’m getting old and I have too much time on my hands to think about the past and the aches and pains of my old body. I think it’s about time to live in the present again and make plans to sell the house and spend the time I have left with my family.
Erika M Szabo
Erika loves to dance to her own tunes and follow her dreams, introducing her story-writing skills and her books that are based on creative imagination with themes such as magical realism, alternate history, urban fantasy, cozy mystery, sweet romance, and supernatural stories. Her children’s stories are informative, and educational, and deliver moral values in a non-preachy way.
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