It was the morning after Christmas and all through the house, no one was stirring except for myself. Members of the family (and the grand dog, too) were snuggled all in their beds, even one on the couch, resting from all the excitement and too many eats.

I tiptoed around, careful not to disturb, when all through the house, the telephone clattered, calling me to an early appointment. I jumped into the shower, pulled on my clothes and away I went in a flash.

As I drove, reflections of past Christmases danced in my mind. Many of our family gatherings through the years mesh in my memory, emerging as a happy jumble. I do recall vividly the year I turned on a mini-recorder while everyone opened gifts around the Christmas tree. From all the babble came such comments as “Just what I always wanted ... what is it?” “Don’t step on that toy; you’re going to break it!” “I found that on sale. I hope it fits.”

Everybody talked at once. Nobody seemed to listen to anyone else. That session lasted about 15 minutes, resulting in the usual litter of wadded paper, discarded bows and a stack of cardboard boxes.

Then thoughts of the Christmas my children and I spent at sea in December 1960 appeared. We boarded the USNS Patch at the Brooklyn Navy Yard, bound for Bremerhaven, Germany. From there we would travel by train to join my husband in Bamberg.

Santa did not forget the children on board ship that Christmas Eve. He appeared on deck and handed out a Christmas stocking filled with candy and a small gift for each child. He even managed to sneak to our cabin to leave our children some special gifts that night. It was Christmas all over again when we arrived at our destination.

Another Christmas during that three-year tour included an unwelcome surprise gift for me — a severe case of the mumps. As I lounged in our living room during a week’s confinement, an aluminum Christmas tree standing in the window of a second floor apartment across the street reflecting red, green, blue and yellow lights afforded me many cheerful hours.

That same year, friends and neighbors Shelby and Charlie visited with their baby daughter Sharon on Christmas Eve. Our children were in bed and Santa had already arrived. Little Sharon spotted our daughter’s new doll under the tree, toddled straight to it, and held it fast when they turned to leave. They had to wrest it from her, leaving her screaming and reaching for it as they rushed out the door.

Then there were the Christmases when our grandchildren were little. They bounced around the house, playing with those special toys Santa left them. Sometimes there was laughter, sometimes a few tears, but it was a joyful time.

Back home the day after Christmas, the family was up and stirring. I am thankful God has again blessed us with each other’s presence at this special time.

Nina Keenam is a former resident of Baldwin County and Staff Writer for The Foley Onlooker.