When I was about 16 or 17, my mom and I went Christmas shopping. It was a special time for me because it was just the two of us. As we went from store to store, we picked out items, and every time she got a bag from a clerk, she handed it to me. Store to store, she kept handing the bags or packages to me and went on her merry way. Soon, bags were bouncing against my legs, and I could hardly see where I was going. It took her a while, but she finally noticed that I wasn’t keeping up with her and that all she was carrying was her purse. Shocked, she exclaimed, “Mary, why didn’t you say something?” “I wanted to see how long it would take you to notice,” I replied, and we both laughed.
Every Christmas season since, one of us says to the other, “Remember the time . . .?” One of us tells that story, and we laugh. This year I am laughing alone since she passed away, but I am still laughing about it. It was and still is our story, our memory. It belongs only to us because no one else was there.
Stories are meant to be shared, though, and I wonder what stories you all have and are willing to share. I would love to hear them. You can type them in the comment section of the blog, or if you know me personally, you can comment on my Facebook page.
Merry Christmas or happy whatever holiday you celebrate. I hope you make good memories.