Christmas Memoir: 9846 Deepwoods Drive

As we approach the holidays, I recall a memoir I wrote in 2006 about Christmas at my childhood home.
I thought I would share it on my updated blog...

9846 Deepwoods Drive

Beside my brother, Wes, with his platinum blonde hair standing straight up as it did every morning, I stood in the entry of the hallway looking into the room in which we usually sat and watched television. However, today it was transformed into a magical escape from normality…it was Christmas morning. In the early morning light, except for the twinkling of the lights strung on the tree, the room was still dark and quiet…almost forbidden. Around the tree, Santa had left gifts for all of us. Santa’s gifts were never wrapped so the surprise was instantaneous, as if in a blink of an eye presents had appeared. The stockings hung above the fireplace were stuffed with my favorite candy, lottery tickets (Santa must not be Baptist) and sometimes things like socks.


We knew not to open any presents before Momma and Poppa were with us. Wes always made sure everyone was up so that the gift-getting could begin, by jumping on beds and yelling, “Santa Clause came, Santa Clause came!” Too excited to put in my contacts, I would sit on the floor in my PJs and glasses with bed head and unbrushed teeth surrounded by the mounds of presents with my name written in the TO:__________ found on each gift tag.

Having no time to get ready herself, my mom would sit on the hearth of the fireplace in her robe, wearing glasses as well, drinking her morning coffee as the roaring fire warmed her back. Usually she would have her feet halfway in the fire, but on this morning she wanted to watch the show.

And it was a show. The Brown boys were entertainment bar none. I seemed to find myself sitting back and watching them, loving them for the joy they brought to the family with their quirks, genuine brotherly playfulness and hilarity.

As smells of Poppa’s hot chocolate and Momma’s monkey bread floated into the room and sound bites of A Christmas Story (Momma’s little piggy) played in the background, I savored every moment of these mornings.

When “the boys” were home, it felt most like family. If I had to describe it in one word it would be laughter. Though the saying went, “Poppa will do anything for a laugh,” when the boys were there, it was the heart-warming sound of my Poppa’s laughter that was most prevalent.

I remember one Christmas morning when Chris, my other brother, decided he would put on every gift he received right when he opened it. If it was a package of boxers, they went on over the pajamas he was currently wearing…one on top of the other. I believe by the time he finished opening all his presents he was wearing at least 3 hats, several shirts, a few boxers, a couple pair of pants, several packages of new socks, as he sat in a new fold-out chair all wrapped up in a new blanket with a big smile on his face.

I never felt as though I had the gift of comedy, though I appreciated it more than the gifts I received at Christmas. As a child, I did not see it this way, but as a teenager, I remember dreading this moment’s closing, when the boys would return to their mom’s house for Christmas dinner.

I knew the day and celebration was not over, for we would eat our Christmas dinner with Mammaw and share gifts together. But it was if there was a hole left when the boys “went home.”

Unlike other kids, I had several Christmas celebrations in December: with my dad, with my ex-step mother and brother and sister, with my Mom’s extended family and of course, “The Brown Family Christmas,” which was always celebrated on Christmas Eve. But nothing compared to Christmas morning at 9846 Deepwoods Dr.

I will always miss it…not Christmas, or the gifts, the food or even the house. I will miss the feeling of family we shared in those moments.

I guess as we grow up and we build our own family, we are able to carry with us what we loved about our childhood. I want to take with me the love of laughter.