My East Texas Heaven
We all have memories bound to the Christmas holidays. The ones from my childhood are woven into the fabric of the person I am today.
Riding in the back of Pawpaw’s pickup truck to the back woods beyond the bottom pasture on Christmas Eve in search of holly branches to decorate the fireplace mantel in the traditional red and green of the season.
The look on Grandmamma’s face when Granddaddy Cozart came back from the woods with the Charlie Brown Christmas tree he cut down every year.
My brother and sister and I piled together in bed with Daddy on Christmas Eve when he says, “Listen. Do you hear it?” “What, Daddy, what?” we all cried. “I think I heard the bells ringing on Santa Claus’s sleigh as it flew over. Y’all better get to sleep quick.” And as I closed my eyes and strained to ...