THE BEST CHRISTMAS PRESENT OF ALL

It was the coldest of winters that year and Christmas Eve came to the Conlan house with howling winds and snow on the ground. It had been a hectic time for our family without the full attention of our mother who loved holidays and parties, and loved to deck the halls. She had not even sat down at the piano to play Christmas carols with all of us gathered around to sing along. It was a different year, and a very different feeling permeated our household. We had help in the house but it wasn't the same; Mother always showed us how to wrap our presents and tie the bows so that the presents under the tree looked like art. (My mother was an artist.) But this year, Mother was clearly tired, and she looked wane and worried. We had not even gone to the Cincinnati Crone Conservatory to see the live creche where Mary and Joseph sat among live animals and waited for their baby to arrive, which is just what my mother was doing that Christmas Eve. Mother herself was heavy with child carrying our youngest sister Christine Helen to arrive on Christmas morning. Mother wanted to see all of us open our Christmas presents before she went off to the hospital, and I can still see her sitting in our vast hallway in an antique velvet chair, small packed suitcase at her feet, hat and coat on. She was delighting in the sounds of her children's excitement and joy as we, one by one, opened our gifts. I received a shiny black three-speed bike that my two brothers carried up from the basement. I was in awe, totally unaware of the real treasure in the room that Christmas, unknown and unseen by all of us.
After the last gift was unwrapped, Dad carefully walked Mother to the family station wagon in the driveway, and we all waved good-bye as they drove away. We then ripped into our toys and treasures, playing until bedtime which came all too early. And, no bells were rung from our rooftop that night; a tradition every year, and no one set cookies and carrots out for Santa and his reindeer. Santa had already been to our house, but he had not brought the best present of all....our sister, Chris, who came home with Mother a week later form the hospital.

* Art by my sister Maureen Conlan.