From a Big Sur writing retreat part IV

Nog and sap

Anticipation in the house was almost palpable at Christmas time. Decorations, the large real tree, the Burl Ives and Bing Crosby holiday records; these were all lugged out of the big blue storage trunk the first week of December. Back then Thanksgiving actually included decorations that kept the event separate from Christmas. Once Santa rode through the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, however, it meant all bets were off. The yuletide season could begin. About a week later, we’d drive the Volkswagen bug to the local tree lot and spend our sweet time walking through a grand display of spruce, Douglas firs, blues and more. The smell of fresh cut wood and sap filled our nostrils. For me, that pungent odor meant Christmas. There’s nothing like it. And then Mom would come home from work with egg nog. Usually we drank it for two reasons – either we were decorating the tree or Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer would be on that night. Just the smell of egg nog brings a sense of warmth to my heart. I feel that tingling sense of excitement I felt when I was seven. Toys, candy, special food, Christmas specials on television, advent calendars with tiny pictures inside; the smell of egg nog makes me think of all these things.

Today I buy it for my children in the hopes they also feel that tingling reaction. It means good things are coming your way. It means love is in the air. I think they feel it too. Maybe they’ll tell me about it someday. I’m looking forward to it, just as I am that first egg nog with a grandchild.

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