When I think about Christmases I have had previously throughout my lifetime, I think about many different things. I think about where they were held, who was all there and of course what I got for the special holiday. What always really sticks out to me every time out of all of it is one singular moment. This moment was very integral as I learned two valuable lessons that Christmas in 2010;
As everyone was being given their gifts in the living room of Grandma and Grandpa Genereux, a feeling of heavy anticipation fell upon me. Just like every nine years old, I couldn't wait to rip open anything I was given on Christmas, as the whole year led up to that moment. When I finally got my gift, I was a little shocked as my present was somewhat small. As I opened the box, my soon gift was in, and I was revealed packaging that showed images of things I had no intention of getting. That is when my nine-year-old spirit started to throw a fit. I was in disbelief that my Grandparents got me these things. Everyone got a tad bit concerned and asked me what was wrong. I told everyone my issue, and that is when everyone told me to open the gift. I opened the present, and I realized that I should've had a completely different reaction from when I was handed the gift to the second I opened the gift. I was given so much more than what I deserved that day. From that day forward, I learned not to take everything at face value and not to be as much of a spoiled
little brat :)
This Christmas memory belongs to my wonderful Grandma, Deanna Genereux, from 1985 and what she always enjoys from the special time of year;
"Always family: Hurds, my Dad's side, and extended family. Our home was always full, spotless, decorated beautifully, warm, and welcoming by my Mother, Berneta Courtnage Hurd, the Domestic Engineer Queen. Christmas Eve was gorgeous. Bounteous tables of appetizers and drinks. We'd indulged and then made our way into the big room with an incredible tree and our amazing wrapped gifts decorated with such love, like everything my Mother did, waiting for jolly old Saint Nicholas, Digger Drew, a good friend and business bud of Dad's."
"Dad loved to find clamorous, noisy toys for Grandsons Marti and Clay, so he went out and bought a Bop-A-Bear for the boys, which was the size of a volleyball, with a plastic pistol. It was a spring action rifle with a suction cup arrow head. You would shoot the bear and the arrow would stick to the bear. The bear would start rolling with such a loud growl you could hear it clear in Box Elder. The barrowhead rolled away in pain, soon circle back around, and would be ready for more. My Dad would laugh out loud until tears came watching it all. It clearly made the rest of us nuts. Then everyone came back for Christmas the next day for my Mom's amazing "everything homemade" smorgasbord dinner and dessert extravaganza. Although, this memory has grown dimmer and dimmer through the years since. It has have grown sweeter and sweeter."
