Sleigh Tracks In The Snow

A Christmas inspired story of a grandmother's childhood visit from Father Christmas one Christmas Eve as told to her young grandson.

  “...and they lived happily ever after.”

        Omi gently stood and tucked the quilted bed spread under the chin of her six-year-old grandson Lucas.

        Lucas yawned a sleepy yawn and stretched an even sleepier stretch. “Omi, tell me another story.”

        Omi’s careworn face and laughing green eyes smiled sweetly down at Lucas. “Ah, liebschen, you need your rest. Tomorrow is Christmas. You don’t want to be too tired to enjoy the day.”

        Lucas squeezed his hands together. “Please, Omi, oh please?!?”

        Omi sighed. “But your momma..” 

       “Oh, she won’t mind!” Lucas insisted. “Please, Omi, one more story? A Christmas story!”

         Omi sighed again and sat down alongside her grandson. “Ah me!” she laughed. “All right, all right, my 

Liebschen. What are omis for anyway?”

         Lucas nestled down inside the softness of his bed while Omi sat at his feet. She looked out the window thoughtfully and, with a smile, she began.

          It was on a Christmas Eve very much like this one in a tiny village called Engel Fallt. I was a young girl about your age, Lucas, and I remember being so anxious, so excited for Der Weihnactsmann or Father Christmas as you’ve come to know him. 

         Ah! But it was also my uncle’s birthday and, as was tradition, my entire family gathered at the home of him and my Tante Tilde for a grand celebration. Tante would serve the most splendid punch and spiced cakes while Onkel Friedrich played O Tannenbaum on his mandolin. Such music and laughter the likes I rarely hear anymore but, in those days, were heard not just at Christmas but all throughout the year…

          “My goodness, Omi, that sounds simply wonderful!” Lucas exclaimed. 

           “It was, Lucas dear,” Omi laughed. “It was. However I did not think so. Not at that time. My young mind was focused solely on Father Christmas and what he would bring me and nothing more.”

            “What happened?” Lucas inquired, clutching his blankets as tight as he possibly could.

             I sat watching and listening and growing more and more impatient with the adults as they laughed and talked and danced one dance after another. I remember sitting by the base of Tante’s beautifully trimmed Christmas tree, gloomily tapping at each branch and watching the ornaments jostle up and down, touching my hand to my cheek while tapping my fingers on my criss-crossed knees. Every so often I would steal a glance up at Tante’s cuckoo clock, hoping that each time I looked the time would move that far ahead but finding the time to pass as molasses. Mama and Papa were laughing merrily as were my many tantes, onkles, and cousins. They were very much enjoying the festive spirit of that night. Alas! I was not. I wanted to leave in that moment for home and wait up to hopefully catch Father Christmas in the middle of  deliveries.

        Mind you, dear Liebschen, I wasn’t so sure I believed in this man called Father Christmas. Oh! He made for wonderful stories and  traditions but that was about all I knew him to be. Most of the children  at that time had already stopped believing. To even hint that you might believe would bring on a great deal of taunting.

          After what felt an eternity of tapping my fingers and checking Tante’s clock Papa called, “Ilse, come. Time for home.” 

            Engel Fallt was small enough that all of our houses looked like  rows of gingerbread, one after the other, and only the most wealthy owned an automobile. Our family was not among the most wealthy which made for many a day and night walking. 

          Walking home from Tante Tilde’s the night air was as fresh as peppermint and the snow beneath our boots sparkled like the lights on Tante Tilde’s tree. Every step crunched as I held tight to Mama and Papa’s hands and each house we walked past shimmered as diamonds.

        The night air was still as we trudged through our driveway. As we kicked the snow from our boots we entered the house and shook off our overcoats. Papa disappeared outside for just a moment, reappearing with an armful of wood for the fireplace. Mama busied herself in the kitchen, emerging with two steaming cups of cocoa.

       “Blow on it, Ilse,” said Mama. “and make a Christmas wish.”

        I sat next to Mama at our table carefully stirring my cocoa and blowing even more carefully over its rich chocolate vapors. Make a Christmas wish,,,

         As I stirred my thoughts turned over a dozen or more wishes tucked inside my heart that Christmas, the grandest being a china doll I had seen in the front store window of the local mercantile. She wore a minty green dress, white stockings, and black Mary Jane shoes. Her cheeks were two rosy apples, her eyes an inky blue, and her hair in tight blonde curls held lovingly together by a white ribbon. At the exorbitant price of one whole dollar I knew my best hope at finding her under our tree Christmas morning was to ask Father Christmas; that’s how I would know whether or not he was real or simply a sweet holiday story. 

          And I blew…

          Right then, Lucas spoke up. “Did you get your wish, Omi?”

         Omi laughed. “Oh my, child, you’re as impatient as I was then. Just listen…”

          After I had finished my cocoa, Mama helped me into my night cap and pyjamas. Kneeling beside me, she led me in a special Christmas prayer, brought the blankets up under my chin, and kissed my forehead. “Sweet dreams, liebschen,” she whispered. 

            

        I must have drifted off to sleep at some point because I found myself awakening to what sounded to be bells coming from outside. I sat up, rubbing my eyes, listening ever so carefully.

       There it came again. Jingle jingle jingle. I sat as still as possible, listening for the next sound. 

      Quietly, carefully, I tiptoed across the floor to my bedroom window. 

I pressed my nose to the glass and stared into the night.

    Ah! What I did see!

      There was the silhouette of what appeared to be an old Victorian-esque sleigh, bells draped along each side. In front were the shadows of..*chucklng*..oh my..reindeer…

       “Reindeer?” Lucas asked, his eyes as wide as saucers.

      

       “Reindeer,” Omi replied with a smile.

        I stared in amazement. I could hardly believe my eyes. Reindeer? And a sleigh outside my house? I pressed my nose even tighter to the window. 

       Something moved in the darkness and I heard the jingling of the bells again. My eyes squinted but it was difficult to make out whatever it was in the blackness of the night sky. I was almost certain I saw someone making their way to our front door. I quietly and carefully crept to the door of my bedroom, silently twisting the knob and pulling the door open, trying hard not to awaken Mama and Papa.

       I stood in the doorway, my ear cupped, gasping as I heard the front door open followed by the jangling of bells. The floor creaked under the weight of footsteps and when I saw to whom they belonged, I covered my mouth with my hands. 

     There in front of our tree was Father Christmas himself! 

     He stood dressed in crushed red velvet, boots as black as licorice, his beard as white as the diamond snow. In his hands he carried a sack made from the same crushed velvet as the suit he was wearing adorned with more bells and golden chords. From where I stood he appeared to be reaching into his sack and placing beautiful blue and silver packages neatly around our tree. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut and then opened them again, I wasn’t sure I wasn’t dreaming. 

      I stood and watched, trying as hard as I could to be quiet so as not to disturb his work, when suddenly he turned. Almost as quickly I turned and ran to my room.

     I once again found myself at my window, my nose pressed against the glass. I watched as Father Christmas worked his way through the snow to his sleigh. 

    For a moment he stood with his back facing me. To my childlike surprise he turned and faced me, holding a beautifully wrapped package with shimmering reds and greens. 

    I watched in awe as he carried the package to my window, an elfish smile crossing his lips. I pushed the window open, feeling the cold, December air against my face. 

    He touched a finger to his lips and motioned for me to open my arms. As I did, the package was gently laid inside. 

    I traced each ribbon with my fingertips, lovingly running them along the wrapping paper. He turned to go and as he did I cried, “Wait!”

    I hurried to my bed, placing the package alongside my pillow and reaching for the soft, flannel blanket gracing the topmost of my bedding. I wasn’t a very neat folder but in that moment I folded with all of my youthful heart and carried it to the window, handing it to Father Christmas. “Please,” I whispered. “I want you to have it,”

   

    He oh so carefully touched the material’s softness to his cheek, uttering a quiet but hearty laugh. With a simple nod of his head he turned back to his sleigh. There came a whistle and a jingle jangle of bells and the sleigh disappeared into the night.

     “What was in the package, Omi?” asked Lucas. “Oh! You had to wait for Christmas morning, didn’t you?”

     “Hmmm,” Omi murmured.

     I stood by my window for just a moment wondering if what had happened was just a dream. When I crawled back into my bed holding that beautiful package I knew it wasn’t.

    I placed the package across my lap, pulling at the corners of the wrapping paper. A few rips later I was looking at the beautiful china doll wished for only in my heart. Taking her out of the box, I fell asleep with her held tight in my arms. 

   The next morning after waking Mama and Papa we sat down to  breakfast and Christmas stockings. I sat with my doll in my lap, surveying the lovely surprises my stocking held. 

   Mama saw the doll and smiled. “Well, Ilse,” she said. “where did your pretty friend come from?”

   I held her tight and whispered, “Father Christmas,”

   Mama and Papa exchanged glances and Papa tousled my hair. “Of course,” he laughed. 

    I got up from the table and stood beside our front room window. Outside the snow was falling like confectionar’s sugar. Just then I let out a shriek. “Mama! Papa! Look!” 

   Mama and Papa came and stood beside me, our gazes falling on  sleigh tracks in the snow. 

      Omi looked down to see Lucas fast asleep. She smiled and brushed her lips across his forehead. 

    “Christmas dreams, liebschen,” she whispered. 

     Omi smoothed Lucas’ blankets and touched his hair back from his face. As she stood, she gazed out into the Christmas Eve sky hoping for a tiny glimpse of sleigh tracks in the snow.

Reviews

[Franky]

This is terrific! Brings back memories of me literally counting the days then hours to Christmas eve. You have an impressive imagination my new friend. 😀