Shotgun Christmas
Previous StoryNext StoryWe always pretended to be asleep. It was a game we played with our dad on Christmas Eve. He told us he couldn’t signal for Santa until we were sound asleep in our beds.
As soon as he announced it was time to go to bed, we would run to our rooms, change into pajamas and jump into bed to wait for him to come to say goodnight.
He’d lean down close to our faces to see if our eyes were closed. Sometimes I could feel his scratchy beard brush against my cheek. Finally, he turned his face sideways to listen to our breathing, pulled the covers up around our shoulders, and tucked us in before leaving the room.
We jumped up and ran to the nearest window as soon as he walked out. The screen door squeaked, and we could hear his footsteps as he stepped out on the porch.
We knew what he had in his hands. It was his shotgun, and the clicking sound told us he was loading the first cartridge in the chamber as we covered our ears with our hands to muffle the sound.
Bang, open, click, bang, open, click, Bang! The shotgun echoed across the empty fields surrounding our wood-framed farmhouse as a signal for Santa. It meant that all Gaultney children were asleep in their beds and ready for him to deliver our toys.
My younger brother would sometimes worry about the safety of Santa. But we lay awake quietly in our beds, listening until we drifted off to sleep, then the morning light would bring us to our feet.
It was apparent that Santa had indeed made it through the night as we dashed into the living room filled with the smell of oranges. Our dad had built a roaring fire in the fireplace, and he and our mom was sitting in their chairs drinking coffee.
Our dad was as jolly as any old Saint Nick as he knelt beneath the Christmas tree to pass out the presents. But, of course, it was the best time of the year for us.
When I told my daughter recently about my dad shooting the shotgun three times to signal Santa, she stopped what she was doing and said, “Mom, those are the stories I want to tell my children about their great-grandparents.”
Our children love to listen to stories. They didn’t have much time with their grandparents, and when we tell stories about them, I can see them forming a picture of what they were like in their minds.
Our daughter creates a memory book online for her children every Christmas. They love looking back at what they did, the memories they’ve made, and the comments their mom includes.
I love to tell stories to our children and grandchildren. I know they will create their holiday traditions and maybe even choose some I’ve shared with them, but I doubt our shotgun Christmas will be one of them.
Author for Morningcoffeebeans.com