Story Weekend: Favorite Holiday Memories
We’re in the throes of the holidays and time is going so fast. So much to do! Do you have a story about one of your favorite holiday memories?
If you’re new to Story Weekend, here’s how it works: I pick a theme and you share something from your life that relates to that theme, however you interpret it. Thanks to all of you who’ve contributed. As always, there are a few “rules”:
▪ The story must be true
▪ Try to keep it under 100 words. Embrace the challenge! That’s about six or seven lines in the comment form. I want others to read your story, and most people tend to skip if it’s too long. I know how tough it is to “write tight” but I hope you’ll accept this as a challenge. Happy Holidays!
When I was young every year we would go on holiday to Wales and stay in a chalet on a farm. We would get up in the morning and help the farmer feed the animals and collect the eggs then after breakfast, weather permitting, we would go to the beach. In Wales the beaches have the most wonderful big white pebbles and one year Dad was building a fireplace at home and wanted some pebbles so us 5 children were tasked with finding the ‘best’ pebbles we had to stop halfway home and unload some because the car was struggling. As a child these were the most amazing holidays.
A few years ago these holidays came up in conversation and Mum and Dad said this holiday farm was awful the ‘chalets’ were converted pig pens and Mum had to clean everything when we got there ….
It goes to show the different way adults and children see things I still cant accept it was anything but a fabulous holiday.
So true, Jill. We had a summer home that was paradise for all us kids. We never thought about all the meals that had to be made etc.
One of my FB readers pointed out that UK readers would interpret this question differently than American readers. Americans think I’m talking about Christmas/Chanukah/Thanksgiving/New Years; UK readers think I’m talking about vacations. Either way, it works!
Ha ha I am definitely UK then but as you say either way it works Story Weekend is however we interpret the topic so …..
I think I will be learning more about the American ways and language my son has been promoted to a position in California 🙂 🙁 who knows maybe he will persuade me to actually leave this country for a holiday/vacation lol 🙂
At least he picked a great state to visit!
this is true he is going to be living in the San Francisco Bay/Silicone Valley area so lovely holiday / vacation area
My son moved to California from the UK in 2001 and we have had wonderful holidays visiting some amazing places over the pond! He is coming home this Christmas for the first Christmas since 2001 as it’s his dad’s (my husband’s ) 70th birthday on Christmas Day. Can’t wait so excited! !!
This morning I went to church for the first time in thirty years. I am happy to report that the roof did not cave in and the church is still standing. I found myself tearing up as I gazed upon the live Nativity scene, portrayed by the children of the Catholic elementary school. A joyful memory came flooding back.
There I was 62 years ago, playing the role of Mary for the Holy Trinity Christmas Pageant. Up until then, because I was the tallest in my class, I was always placed in the back row of any school production. Sometimes, I was in charge of opening and closing the curtain. A very important job but not exactly a leading role.
I wouldn’t say a star was born that day but I do remember my self esteem climbing up and off the chart. Amazing what a small thing can mean to a child. Thanks for letting me share this little story and Merry Christmas to all.
What a fun memory for you.
One Christmas my family and I went to stay in a village in Derbyshire, England. When we arrived the house we had rented was right on the village green where there was a huge Christmas tree. On Christmas Eve everyone in the village came out to sing carols around the tree and have mulled wine and mince pies. There was frost in the air and it felt so festive it could have been a scene straight out of a movie – right up to the point when a lady who had got a little bit too merry on the mulled wine leaned on our gate for support and fell straight through into our garden…
Sounds like a scene from a movie, Melanie!
I live in Derbyshire can you remember which village it was ?
Yes I think it was called Monyash
When we were young my Dad worked shift work including weekends and holidays. When he was on day shift Christmas Day we would celebrate on Christmas eve. After we had a nice meal and it was dark my parents would tell us to go around the block and look at Christmas lights and look for Santa because he was making our house his first stop.While we were out my parents would quickly place the gifts and stockings out just like Santa had arrived. For years we believed that they had a direct line to Santa just because Dad worked shift work. I still like to go out Christmas eve and look at all the lights.
I come from a large family- 7 kids. One year my grandparents were visiting from Holland. As you can imagine there was no spare room so 2 kids had to bunk in with 2 others. The gastrointestinal flu entered the house and spread quickly. You can imagine what a grand central station the bathroom was. My Grandfather recovered first and as we all moved on to drinking and eating gingerly he made us tea and toast and made recommendations about how to proceed with our diet. He told us how he learned this when he was in a prisoner of war camp in Japan. This was the only time I heard him talk about being part of World War 2. It was a very lethargic gift opening session much later in the day with many interruptions. No large turkey dinner that night and instead of kissing our thanks for gifts received we touched elbows. Even though it was not a traditional Christmas it was memorable for all 11 of us.
That’s a touching story, Irene. Wow.
I have lived in old Jersey, GB, for over 30 years and there is nothing more I love than to invite family from France and England to celebrate Christmas. One year in particular springs to mind. As we all sat down to enjoy our gorgeous looking turkey and all the trimmings, Dad gave his habitual toast and we all eagerly tucked in, only to end up spitting it all out in disgust! We found out later that our turkey had been contaminated by a powerful detergent at the abattoir/slaughterhouse. It was simply revolting! That year, we were left eating creamed carrots and steamed brussel sprouts mostly. Luckily, the Christmas pud was delicious!