One of my most treasured possessions is my Christmas stocking. My grandmother needle pointed each of her grandchildren a stocking. I am the oldest grandchild on my mom’s side, so I was given the first stocking. It means the world to me, especially since my grandmother passed away in 2005.
When I found out I was pregnant, I knew my baby needed a stocking. As soon as we found out I was carrying our son, I told my mother his name. A few weeks later, I told her is would mean the world to me if she would make him a stocking since she took over the family tradition after her mother passed.
Little did I know my mom had already completed two stockings at this point; one for J and one for C. She was upset that I had asked, only because she wanted it to be a surprise. She thought one of my siblings has tipped me off. I was completely in the dark.
On Christmas morning, 2008, I opened my Christmas present from my parents. I was at home, in my living room, almost 8 months pregnant. Inside the box was my stocking. Below it was C’s. Tears began pouring out of my eyes. I thrust J’s box at her and demanded she open it. There was the third stocking. I sobbed for a good while. These beautiful stockings were for my family. It made me feel amazing.
This may seem silly, but I hug those stockings. I love those stockings. I gingerly lift them from the tote of Christmas things each year and put them on their appropriate stocking holders. I treasure the details. I admire their beauty.