The Candied Nuts

The doors of the local WalMart swished opened and an outrush of warm air greeted us. We dashed inside at Ma's heels, waiting for the swish of the doors closing behind us to stop. I bounced up and down as my older brother Sam attempted to run in circles around the cart.
“It's so cold out!” I burst out happily. It was Alabama, and cold weather meant feasting, gaiety, and general merriment to us.
“And we're gonna get the Christmas tree tomorrow right, Ma?” said Sam as we went past the initial displays of candy canes and Christmas decor. The familiar tune of Jingle Bells Rock warbled in the background.
“We sure are,” said Ma. Getting the Christmas tree was a much-looked-forward-to occasion, a sign that Christmas was really here. I squealed with excitement as I thought of it. I could almost see the tree, wrapped up in plastic mesh, and smell the piny smell as we stuffed it into the back of the van. . . hear the rhythmic scraping of Pa's saw trimming it in the thrillingly dark front yard. . . feel the chilly air as I ran up the steps with my arms full of trimmings for Ma to decorate with. . . play hide and seek with Sam and Bill around the tree’s base when it was finally in. I couldn't wait.
“Remember what we’re here today for, though,” said Ma with a smile as we followed her through the festive aisles. “Stocking stuffers for Pa.”
“Stockings!” we cheered, bouncing around the cart. Candy. . . Presents. . . An orange. . .
“What would Pa want?” Ma prompted us, steering the cart toward the candy aisle.
“Look at that!” said Bill, pointing out a stand of candied nuts at the end. He was the youngest, but we were so close in age that hardly mattered. I ran forward. “Nuts—Pa likes nuts!”
“That he does,” Ma mused. “Let's check it out.”
The nuts were in enchanting little tin cans colored red and green and white, sporting festive flavors like “White Chocolate Peppermint” and “Hot Cocoa Dream” and “Gingerbread”. They were the perfect size to go inside a stocking. . . But Ma shook her head.
“These all have soy. But we can make him some at home.”
How I despised our food allergy! But the prospect of homemade nuts was enough to dispel any larger regrets as we left the display of candy behind.
We kids had fun picking out a new toothbrush for Pa while Ma selected a pot of pine-scented soap for him, brand new. A crinkling bag of gluten-free pretzels made three items in the bottom of the cart. We eyed the small pile happily as Ma directed us to the cashier.
“And with the nuts we’ll make him—that's a nice lot,” said Bill.
“I'm crocheting him a coaster, too,” said Sam very proudly.
“And his orange! He'll have an orange,” I added. Oranges were always in stockings; right at the toe.
“He'll know that's there, Betty.” said Bill, hopping up on the front of the cart.
“Still,” I grinned and licked my lips.

We were a funny sort of family—though I was less aware of it as a kid. We were homeschooled; school during the holidays simply wasn't a thing. Me and my sibling's minds were innocently free of the general sadness of math, science, and history--- free to enjoy the multitudes of happiness and abundance of family time.  Ma was short, pretty, sweet-tempered—always smelling of ginger and cinnamon, and she always cooked our food, though we were too young to appreciate this fully. She was always there, contributing unselfishly to the wonders of Christmas—and enjoying it all the more for it. Christmas meant firelit nights, marshmallows, cookies, mismatched twinkling lights, and a jumble of different ornaments lovingly (if not artistically) decorating the tree. It meant Pa getting home early, candle lights at church, and hot chili soup with Fritos. The air was thick with promises of presents, bursting with happy secrets. There were Christmas lists to be written, carols to be sung, and snowflake window-clings to be affixed.
Were we spoiled? Hard to tell! To us, it was all just happy life—there were always the dishes to clean, tables to wipe, floors to vacuum, but we were happy, and that was what mattered. When I looked in the mirror, a rose-cheeked, sparkling-eyed, innocently contented youngster looked back at me. I was too little to know just how blessed I was.
That Christmas was the first year we made candies nuts, but after that it became another tradition—another long looked forward to occasion to herald the coming Holiday, like the buying of the tree. It has marked every year since then.  


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